


An Unexpected Family

by blubuddi974



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Dwobbits, F/M, Female Bilbo, Female Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield, Female Dori, Female Fíli, I like this better now that I rewrote it, I'm experimenting with boffins, M/M, Momma Bear Bilbo Baggins, The Slow Burn is a lie, Twin Dwobbits, also because obv, because obv, but don't let that scare you, but they get over themselves, end game is bagginshield, it's longer and a lot better, they p much despise each other in the beginning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-14
Updated: 2018-05-25
Packaged: 2018-06-06 19:44:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 98,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6767383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blubuddi974/pseuds/blubuddi974
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been 25 years since they've seen one another. They didn't expect to cross paths again. But, for quite by chance, and the will of a Wizard, Fate decided they would, and, boy, are they not happy about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. An Unexpected Father

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, just a bit of back story here. I have been writing this fic since about July of 2015. I've written and rewritten it four times, and I really don't want to do it again. It started out as an Mpreg, loosely inspired by 'Parenting and Other Perilous Endeavors' by LogicalBookThief (Which I recommend, even though it hasn't been updated in a while). But after I started I didn't want it to be too similar, so I changed it to a daughter instead of a son; it made sense to me because I figured Bilbo would have to supply the X chromosome, and Thorin would supply the other. But then half way through the second film, I wasn't sure if I wanted a son or daughter so I changed it to both. And now, finally, I have it as Twins with Momma Bilbo. I really hope this is it because I don't want to start over again. (that's real funny past me, because you rewrote it, again.) And then just as I finished the second film, I didn't like it anymore so here we are again. the basic plot is the same, it's just I've changed it up to how I like it.
> 
> Also, this is unbeta'ed. I read over it trying to find mistakes, but there still might be some. And I'll try to update as regularly as I can. Updates come only on Fridays, so if I miss a Friday. check back next Friday. and now because I wrote it so many times, 'Friday' looks weird.

    The lives of Belladonna and Isengrim Baggins were quite unusual; not that twins were unusual among Hobbits. These Twins were, in fact, not purely Hobbit. This is what makes them unusual. The Mother of these particular twins, is Bilbo Baggins. Bilbo Baggins is a Hobbit, she is also the only child of Belladonna Baggins (née Took) and Bungo Baggins. That may not seem like it to you, but it seems that this family was destined to be unusual. Bilbo’s parents were said to be the most unusual couple in the History of Hobbits, other than the story that one of the Took ancestors had a Fairy wife (which is absolutely absurd). As you have seen, Belladonna, Bilbo’s mother, is a Took. Took pronounced with a long ōō sound, rhyming ‘spook’, not with ‘book.’ You must remember that, if you pronounce it wrong they will become very cross with you. Tooks are mainly of Fallohide descent; this gives them fair skin and hair, a love of the forest, and an adventurous streak. 

    Bilbo’s father, Bungo, is a Baggins. Bagginses are mainly Harfoots; this means that they are brown skinned and dark haired, with a love of fields and gardening. Bagginses have no adventurous streak, they stay where they were born for their entire lives, and that is very acceptable for them. You might be asking what Fallohides and Harfoots are, they are two of the three kind of Hobbits. The third and final kind is the Stoors. Stoors were stockier and broader than the other two families, and they were the only Hobbits who grew beards.All Hobbits began East of the Misty Mountains, but eventually moved West. The Harfoots migrated first, then the Fallohides, and finally the Stoors. After the many centuries, they all intermingled and most Hobbits now share the same traits, though some families have different skin tones and hair colors.

    Before Belladonna and Bungo, Tooks and Bagginses had never breeded. Took are the most adventurous, and Bagginses are the most respectable; they were polar opposites. But somehow, these two had fallen in love with each other. Together they had Bilbo. Bilbo has a lighter brown skin tone, a mix of both her parents, and Golden Brown Hair, like her mother. Her face was a near copy of her father’s, save for her green eyes, which were her mother’s. When she was younger, Bilbo was the most adventurous Fauntling, searching for Elves in the woods and coming home after dark covered in mud with twigs and leaves in her hair. But as she got older, she turned into almost a second edition of her father. I say almost because there was still something a bit queer about her. 

    When Bilbo was nineteen, she met Thorin. Thorin was a Dwarven Blacksmith hailing from the Blue Mountains. He’d came to the Shire in hopes for business, and while his first year wasn’t too great, he came back the next summer. Thorin and Bilbo became good friends over the first few years he was in the Shire, and they eventually started courting. Fall of the year 2915 of the Third Age, Thorin left, as per usual, but when Spring rolled around the next year, he didn’t return. Thorin is the father of our twins. While they were courting, Thorin and Bilbo had a slightly tipsy night with resulted in the conception of the twins. Bilbo, of course, didn’t discover her pregnancy until almost Winter. So when she found out, she sent a letter to Thorin. It wasn’t an odd occurrence, they had sent letters to each other the past few years when they were apart. What was odd, was that, though she was sending them, she never received any in return. It was suspicious, usually they’d each send at least two letters before the post office was closed for the Winter, but she didn’t receive any letters; not before Winter, not after. So when Spring rolled around, Bilbo was still heavily pregnant when Thorin was supposed to be back, so she went down to see him, only to discover another Dwarf had bought the forge. She tried to ask this new Dwarf what had happened to Thorin, but they just told her that he sold the forge to them and told them where to go. She was utterly heartbroken, it was obvious, wasn’t it? Thorin discovered she was pregnant and didn’t want anything to do with her, so he sold the forge and didn’t return any of her letters. 

    She thanked the Dwarf and returned home, where she collapsed into tears as soon as the front door shut. Her sadness turned to anger and she started screaming and beating the floor with her fists, accidentally putting herself into Labour. Her parents quickly moved her into her bedroom and Bungo went to retrieve the local midwife to assist. Bilbo had a twelve hour labour for her two children, and she was bedridden for a week. She raised her children on her own, with the help of her parents, opting out of marriage.

    Much to Bilbo’s distaste, her children’s appearance favored that of their father. They each had his Dark hair and striking blue eyes, and they were large compared to Hobbit babes. They had the Bagginses brown skin, and they had pointed Hobbit-like ears. They did not have Hobbitish feet, their feet were small, hairless, and sensitive, which caused them to need shoes. One of their major differences, other than being a boy and a girl, was their nose; Isengrim had inherited the Baggins nose, while Belladonna had inherited Thorin’s nose. As they grew older, their Dwarf side became more present; they started to grow beards by the time they were ten and they were growing taller and broader than the faunts their age. By the time they were twenty, they were towering over most of the adult Hobbits. 

    Since they were younger, the Twins had a knack for making and building things. So, when they were old enough, Bilbo let them become apprentices at the forge. They didn’t make too many things, that was reserved for the Dwarf who owned the forge; they usually took the orders and delivered the finished product to its owner. Eventually, they were allowed to make long distance trips. This was a rare occurrence, and they only did it when an order required a material that Bildr didn’t have at the moment. So they would contact the forges in the area to see in they had the needed materials, and Bella and Grim would go pick them up. This had them going all over the place, much to Bilbo’s worry. They mostly went to Bree and the other forges in the different villages of the Shire, but there was one instance where they went to the Blue Mountains, and four where they went to Rivendell.

    In Rivendell is where Isengrim found his One, or at least that’s what Bildr said. Isengrim mentioned how he felt around Elenion one day in the forge, and the Dwarf told him that’s how your One is supposed to make you feel. Bildr was how the Twins learned about their Dwarven heritage, they would answer what the twins asked about Dwarves, and they would, in turn, tell the Dwarf about Hobbits. Bildr also mentioned that they aren’t as against Elves as the Dwarves from Erebor and the like are, because their family was from the Blue Mountains. They told them that they were obviously angry at the Elves of the Woodland Realm for not helping their people, but that didn’t affect their look on the Elves of Rivendell as they were not asked to aid the Dwarves in the first place. So, they congratulated Isengrim on finding his One, and wished Bella good luck in finding hers. 

    Finally, in the present, the Twins have turned twenty-five. They celebrated their birthday in Rivendell for the first time, and learned that Elves celebrate differently than Hobbits do. Elves celebrate, not the date of birth, but rather the date of conception. And that they receive gifts on their day of begetting, rather than give them. But they’ve returned to Hobbiton on April twenty-fifth, a Monday. They enter the town as the Sun is rising over the horizon and turning the sky a range of reds, oranges, and purples. They smile at each other and nudge their ponies into moving. They stop by the stables to drop off their ponies before heading to the forge. They catch Bildr just as they’re walking up to the building. 

    “So you’ve returned!” The brown haired Dwarf says with a smile.

    “We have,” Isengrim replies,

    “And in one piece, that’s good,” Bildr comments.

    “We always intend to return in one piece,” Bella says.

    “You’ve returned a lot earlier than expected, as well.”

    “We wanted to get home as soon as possible,” Isengrim informs, “Lord Elrond sent some materials with us to bring to you.” He holds up the pack and Bildr takes it from him, nodding and taking stock of what was inside.

    “I’ll send my thanks in a letter within the week,” the Dwarf says, putting the items away, “Was there anything else?”

    “Not that I can think of,” Bella answers.

    “Right, then go on and greet your mother, she’s been missing you.” they wave the two off and they pick up their things and start the walk home. They get stopped on their way back a few times, the first being by a group of fauntlings who wanted them to play with them.

    “We haven’t eaten breakfast yet!” Bella cries, “How could we possibly play on empty stomachs?”

    “Well, you can go eat breakfast,” says Paladin Took, with his hands on his hips, “But then you have to come play with us.”

    Bella and Grim agree and the children run off to play, and they keep on walking home, being stopped a few times to be welcomed home. It was never always like this, there was a time where the Twins were almost hated and everyone was cruel to them. They knew it was because they were half Dwarf, there was no denying it. They knew people called them dangerous, and they used to hear it all the time. The faunts their age would tell them they couldn’t play because their parents said they were dangerous and different. It never got to them, really, they would just shrug and go play with their cousins or just by themselves. It wasn’t until they were teens, that it started to get to them. That’s of course when children become cruel for the sake of cruel. There was teasing and bullying, about their beards or about their small feet, or about how they’re bigger than everyone else. It went on until they pulled that Brandybuck boy out of the stream.

    The twins taught themselves how to swim at a young age and would often be found playing and swimming in said stream. One day, while they were swimming, one of the youngest Brandybucks had approached the water. He was only about seven or eight at the time, still easily manipulated by others. He had came to tell them that his mother said that swimming was unnatural and no one should do it.

    They just shrugged and told him that his mother probably wouldn’t like him near the water then. He nodded and when he moved to go away from the stream, his mother had shrieked at him, causing him to startle and fall into the stream. That boy sunk like a rock and the twins moved like lightning and yanked him out. The boy’s mother cradled the wet, coughing fauntling to her chest, thanking the twins over and over. And that’s when things started to change. People were just generally nicer, but of course, there were still some who were against them. They had heard once that someone had claimed they pulled the boy into the stream and tried to drown him. But nonetheless, they were happy that people were nicer.

    Finally, they reach their home. They stand outside the gate for a few moments, just taking in the sight of their home. After a few moments, they open the gate and make their way to the door. It was the only kelly green door in all of Hobbiton. Most Hobbits went with red or yellow doors to stand out against the green of the plants, but for some reason, Bungo Baggins went with a green door. They enter their home, taking off their shoes and hanging up their cloaks, then depositing their packs onto the floor.

    “Mum!” Bella calls, “Mum, we’re home!” She looks over at her brother with a quizzical look, he shares her expression and shrugs.

    “Today’s Monday” Isengrim says, “She’s probably doing laundry.”

    Bella nods and they make their way to the back door of the house. The door was open and they could see their mother hanging up the linens. They grin mischievously at each other and sneak up behind their poor, oblivious mother. They startle her by appearing at her sides and pulling her into a group hug. She squawks in surprise, but once she notices it’s her children, she hugs them back.

    “I was getting worried!” the Hobbit exclaims, “I thought you’d be home sooner.”

    “We almost stayed a few more days, but decided against it,” Bella informs, “It was already the longest we’d been away from home, and we didn’t want you to worry too much. Didn’t you get our letter, the one we sent just before we left?”

    “I did, but I still expected you to be here earlier.”

    “We got here in the same amount of days we always do,” Isengrim says

    “I know, I know, but that doesn’t mean I can’t worry.”

    “But it does mean that you  _ shouldn’t _ worry,” Bella points out.

    “Leave me be!” Bilbo says with a laugh, “I’m allowed to worry as much as I want, now help me hang these up before they get mildewy.”

    The twins do as they’re told and assist their mother in hanging up the linens. Once that’s finished, Bilbo ushers them inside so that they could start making second breakfast.

    “Anything interesting happen while we were gone?” Grim asks his mother as he slides a tray of pastries into the oven.

    “Not particularly,” Bilbo replies, setting the timer, “Amaranth gave birth about a week ago,”

    “I was supposed to be there!” Grim says, “Rosemary was supposed to show me how to deliver a baby!”

    “She can show you when Bluebell gives birth,” Bella says, “She’s ready to pop.”

    Bilbo nods in agreement “I talked to her a few days ago, she said her due date was in two weeks. Though I’m sure the babe’ll be out before then.” Grim frowns, and moves to sit at the small table in the kitchen. Bilbo makes a noise, as if she’s remembered something. “I had the weirdest morning, today. One of my mother’s old friend’s came around, Gandalf.

    “Gandalf?” Bella asks, “Who’s that?”

    “He’s a Wizard,” the Hobbit informs, “I haven’t seen him since I was-” She makes a high-pitched noise- “Since I was a little girl, actually.”

    “Then how did you recognize him?” Grim questions.

    “I didn’t,” Bilbo says, “I had no clue who he was, until he told me. I might have accidentally insulted him, now that I think about it.”

    “What did you say to him?” Bella asks.

    “I may have hinted at the fact that I thought he should be dead by now.” Her two children burst into laughter, and she frowns deeply. “Now, don’t laugh at me! He doesn’t look like he’s aged a day since I last saw him! He looks like an old man and it’s been more than thirty years! How was I supposed to know that Wizards didn’t age like Humans?” She tries to defend herself which only causes her children to laugh more.

    They stop laughing just before the pastries are out of the oven, and Bilbo tells them they’re lucky she didn’t refuse the pastries to them. “So, how did your birthday go?” Bilbo asks when they all sit down to eat.

    “It was fun, we got a few things, and we gave a few things as well.” Bella says, “I got a new set of arrows from Lindir.”

    “That’s nice, what about you Grim?”

    “I finally got the translated herb lore book,” he says, “It’s in my bag, I need to put it in the study. Elenion and I were talking about the Wedding again, and he says he wouldn’t mind coming to the Shire for it.”

    “That’s good, you know we’d never get anyone to leave the Shire, not even for a Wedding,” Bilbo comments.

    “Mum,” Isengrim says, almost hesitantly.

    “Yes?”

    “Do you think we could maybe bump the Wedding up?”

    “No, Isengrim. I told you, you have to wait until after you’ve turned thirty-three.”

    “But, Mum--”

    “I said no!” Bilbo shouts, “We’ve talked about it and I said no, that’s final.”

    “Mum, I still don’t understand why you want me to wait!”

    “I don’t want you to make the same mistake I did!”

    The room turns silent as Bilbo pushes away from the table and moves to leave the room, but Isengrim grabs her arm, halting her. “What do you mean, Mum?”

    “I don’t want you to rush into things, like I did,” she says softly, “I know we weren’t married, but, I gave myself to him. We’d only been courting for little over a year, but I was convinced he was the one for me. I’d falsely convinced myself I was in love, and I got hurt because of it.” She pauses and turns to look at her children. “But you know what? If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have the two most wonderful children in the world.” She smiles fondly at the twins and they grin back at her. “Alright, let’s finish Second Breakfast, I need one of you two help me with the garden, and I need the other to run down to the markets to get a few things for me.”

    “I can go to the markets,” Isengrim says, “I just need to change out of my travelling clothes and take a bath.”

    “You can go do that once we’re finished here,” Bilbo informs, “Bell and I will wash the dishes and then we’ll go out to the garden. I think there are rabbits in my tomato patch.”

    They finish their breakfast and Bilbo and her daughter go into the kitchen to wash the dishes while Isengrim takes a bath. Bilbo washes the dishes and hands them off the Bella to be dried and put away. After the dishes are finished, Bilbo has Bella get the pest repellent from the gardening shed and then meets her at the garden. 

    Isengrim finds them on their knees digging in the soil, and he knocks on the back door to get their attention. “What am I getting?” he asks

    “I made a list, it should be on the table under the calendar by the door.” 

    “Right, I will be back.” He turns on his heel and walks back into the house. 

    Bilbo and Bella continue their gardening well after Isengrim returns from getting the shopping. He brings them out drinks and sandwiches for Elevensies and an hour later, he calls them in so they can prepare for Luncheon. Bilbo sprinkles the repellent around the garden and hands it to Bella when she’s finished.

    “What’s in this stuff anyway?” Bella says looking at the jar.

    Bilbo shrugs, “Mister Worrywort said it was a mix of dried herbs and such that rabbits don’t like. It works like a charm though, when I remember to use it, that is.”

    They wash up before going into the kitchen to start Luncheon. They sit down again at the dinner table, and Bella brings up their conversation before Second Breakfast.

    “Mum, you said, what was his name, Gandalf came around?”

    “Yes, why?”

    “You never said why he was here,” Bella mentions.

    “I didn’t?” Bella shakes her head. “Hm. Well, he came around asking about adventures. I told him I wanted nothing to do with that, and that he should try elsewhere. He then told me who he was, and then that this adventure would be good for me, and amusing for him, and that he would go inform the others. At that point, I just wanted him to go away, so I told him, again, that I did not want any adventures, and invited him to tea tomorrow. Then I came inside and started to do the laundry.”

    “We must have just missed him then,” Isengrim says, “We were in Hobbiton by the time the sun came up. He was probably going down the Hill at the same time we were going up.”

    “But he was probably going down the opposite side,” Bella comments, “Because we didn’t see him, and I’m certain we wouldn’t have missed a tall person here.”

    Bilbo nods and they continue their lunch. Once Luncheon ends, the twins retrieve their pack from the front entrance and go to put their things away, while Bilbo cleans the dishes. 

    Their day goes on as a usual one for the Bagginses, the twins fulfill their promise to the fauntlings and they play a few games between Luncheon and Dinner. About an hour before dinner, the twins escort all the fauntlings home before going home themselves. They eat their meal and Bilbo brings out a peach pie that she prepared while they were out.

    They spend the rest of the day in the sitting room, other than when Bilbo leaves to make herself a small supper. They sit there with full bellies and with a small fire flickering in the fireplace. Bilbo sits in her father’s old armchair with her feet tucked under her, reading a book; Isengrim sits in the other armchair across from his mother, also reading; and Bella sits on the sofa with a blank book and a piece of charcoal, sketching her mother.

    Bilbo looks up from her book to glance outside. Most of the lanterns have been put out in the surrounding smials, they all must be heading to bed. She looks over at her children, who were both falling asleep in their seats. She smiles fondly and closes her books and stands from the chair. She nudges Bella and urges her to go to bed. Her daughter nods sleepily and stands up and wanders to her bedroom. Isengrim does the same when she wakes him and then she goes into her bedroom to change into her nightgown. She then grabs a lit candle and moves around the home, blowing out all the lanterns and candles and then going to bed.

 

    The next day goes along with their usual schedule, they have First Breakfast together and the twins go down to the forge to help Bildr, while Bilbo putters around the house. She first does some more laundry, clothes this time. She picks up the laundry basket and goes from room to room, picking up dirty clothes and makes her way to the bathroom. She leaves the basket in the bathroom and goes to the laundry closet to grab the washboard and laundry soap. She fills the tub little more halfway with hot water and sprinkles in the soap flakes and stirs it around with her hand to dissolve the soap. She fills the tub with as many clothes as she can and scrubs them against the board until they’re clean, she then squeezes the excess water out of the fabric and puts it back in the basket.

    Soon enough, all the clothes are clean and she takes the basket outside to hang up the wet clothes. She leaves the wet basket in the sun to dry and goes back inside. She glances at the clock on the mantelpiece and notes that it was nearly time for Second Breakfast. She makes a small meal for herself of eggs, toast, sausage, sauteed mushrooms, and she reheats a few of yesterday’s pastries. As she is eating, she makes a list of things to buy at the markets for when Gandalf stops by at Tea time. She’s not sure what the Wizard likes, so she might as well make a variety of things.

    She goes to the markets after Elevensies, and picks up what she needs and starts cooking when she gets home. She actually stops for a while and whips up a batch of gingersnaps to bring down to her children and Bildr for Luncheon. She takes them down about a half hour before Luncheon, and discovers that both of her children are not currently at the forge.

    “Miss Bilbo, good afternoon,” Bildr greets.

    “Hello, Bildr. Are they delivering?”

    They nod. “Belladonna is delivering a set of hair clasps to Mrs. Cotton, and Isengrim is taking a set of garden tools to Mr. Gamgee.”

    “Make sure they get a few of these when they get back.” She places the basket on the counter. “Gingersnaps, I made them just a little bit ago. They’re still hot, so be careful, and don’t eat them all.”

    Bildr gives her a grin and takes on of the cookies and breaks it in half, taking a bite out of one half. “I will make sure they get a few.” Bildr was known to enjoy Bilbo’s baking when she brought it down for them to have. So much, that sometimes they forgot that some of the desserts were also meant for her children. If she was being honest, Bilbo knew she and Bildr were sometimes a little…  _ friendly _ . There was sometimes some flirting between them, but the Hobbit knew it wouldn’t ever go beyond that. Bilbo had asked them when they first met if they had a spouse, to which they responded they were married to their work and didn’t feel the need or want for a relationship. When they first met, Bilbo also mistook Bildr as a Miss, due to their body shape, to which the Dwarf replied that they were neither a Miss or Mister. Bilbo apologized and Bildr told her to just call them by name. Over the years that Bildr had been working at the forge, they’d become very good friends with Bilbo, and they would often join the Bagginses for dinner and for a few meals when the Twins were for more than a few days.

    After a few more words, Bilbo returns to her home, and continues to make the things for Afternoon Tea. And once it rolls around, Bilbo finds that Gandalf does not show. Her children arrive just after four and ask if the Wizard showed yet. They have their Afternoon Tea together and the Wizard never arrives. The twins leave after Tea time is over to fulfill a promise of a few games with the fauntlings before Dinner.

    Just before the sun starts to set, Bella tells her brother to just go home without her and that she’d take the faunts home. It takes a lot longer than she’d initially thought, walking back and forth taking each individual faunt home. When she has only one last faunt to take home, she encounters a pair of Dwarves who were looking very lost.

    “Excuse me!” she calls out, “Can I help you?”

    They look up and look relieved to see her. “Hello!” The dark haired one says, “I’m Kili and this is my older sister, Fili. We’re looking for someone, do you think you can help us?”

    “Are you Bildr’s family?” Bella asks, “They mentioned having Family visit soon.”

    “Who? No.” Kili shakes his head. “We’re looking for a Mister Boggins.”

    Bella’s brow furrows as she thinks. “Boggins? I’m not sure I know someone by that name.”

    Fili sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose. “He means Baggins. We’re looking for Bilbo Baggins’ home, do you know where he lives?”

    “I do, but might I ask for what business?”

    They look at each other with a look that wonders if they should tell her. “We were invited.” says Kili, finally, “By a Wizard,  _ Tharkûn _ is what we call him. I believe his name is Gandalf.”

    “Oh,” Bella says, dragging out the ‘o’

    “So can you tell us where Mister Baggins’ house is?”

    “Well firstly, you’ve got to stop saying Mister,” Bella begins, “Bilbo Baggins is my mother, so she’s definitely not male. And yes, I can show you.”

    “And your name?” Fili asks

    “Oh, my apologies, I’m Belladonna Baggins, but you may call me Bella.” She adjusts the Fauntling on her hip. “And this is May Grubb. I have to take her home before I can take you to my home.” The two Dwarves nod and they follow Bella to her home.

    Bella enters the house and notices the two unfamiliar cloaks on the pegs at the door, the first dark-green and the other red.

    “Dwalin and Balin are here already, I see” Kili says, removing his own blue cloak and hanging it up, followed by his sister’s identical cloak. He’s startled by Bella’s hand shooting out in front of him.

    “Boots off, if you don’t mind,” she says, “I’d rather there not be anymore mud on the floors than there already is.” The two Dwarves obey her instruction and begins to untie their boots. Bella slips off her own shoes and makes her way toward the voices at the pantry. “Excuse me, Mister Dwalin, Mister Balin.” They turn to look at her. “Would you mind taking your boots off and placing them by the door?”

    Balin nods and leads his brother out of the pantry and into the front entrance. “How in the world did you do that?” Bilbo asks.

    Bella looks down at her mother, her shoulder length hair was messy, probably from running her fingers through it so often. “I learned from the best,” she replies, “It’s also probably the beard. ‘More respect for their own kind’ kind of thing.”

    “That’s not very polite,” Bilbo grumbles.

    Bella shrugs. “I found two more, a brother and sister. They were lost and asking for you, so after I was convinced they weren’t here to kill you, I brought them here.”

    “How many are there supposed to be?” Bilbo asks

    “Fili and Kili said nine more.” 

    “Nine? What am going to do?”

    Bella thinks for a moment before looking back at her mother. “Do you remember Rory’s thirty-third birthday?”

    Bilbo laughs “I do. That was nearly a disaster.”

    “But you pulled it off, and you can pull this off too.”

    Bilbo smiles fondly at her daughter and nods. “I can, can’t I.” She nods. “Get your brother to come help me, and you direct the Dwarves into the dining room.”

    Bella nods and she follows the voices of the four Dwarves to the dining room. “Hello, do you need help with something?” They turn around to look at her.

    “We need to be able to fit everyone into the dining room,” Balin says.

    “Right, well you need to push the table further in and you’ll definitely need more chairs,” She states, “This table should be able to fit all of you, we’ve had eighteen Hobbits sitting at this table all at once. The extra chairs are in the cellar, I’ll get them while you move the table.” They nod and she moves to retrieve the extra chairs. She passes Isengrim as she’s going back to the dining room and directs him into the kitchen to help their mother.

    The bell rings and Bella goes to answer the door. Five more Dwarves are standing at the doorway. Dori, Nori, and Ori; a sister and her two younger brothers. And then Oin and Gloin, two brothers. She has them take off their boots and hang up their cloaks; there were two purple, a grey, a brown, and a white. Then she directs them into the dining room, informing them dinner was being prepared and there should be some things on the table to stay their hunger.

    She shuts the door and makes for the kitchen. She passes her brother who was exiting the dining room. “Can you grab an ale barrel from the cellar, they’ll be done with the first one soon.” She nods and makes her way to the cellar. She lifts the barrel onto her shoulder and carries it back to the dining room.

    She sets the barrel down and when she straightens, she hears knocking. Not the bell, but a hard knocking on the door. She opens the door and three Dwarves tumble onto the mat. She glances up and sees an old man with a long grey beard leaning on his staff and laughing, he’s dressed in grey robes and a silver scarf, with a tall pointed hat resting on his head. She helps the three Dwarves to stand, discovering they were familiar faces.

    “Mister Bofur! How lovely to see you again!”

    The Hatted Dwarf smiles at her “Lovely to see you as well, Miss Bella.”

    She greets Bifur and Bombur as well and gives them the same spiel as the others and they hang their cloaks, two yellow and one pale-green, and remove their boots then move to the dining room. Bella looks up at the Wizard. “You must be Gandalf,” She says.

    “You seem to know my name, but I do not know yours.”

    “My name is Belladonna Baggins, daughter of Bilbo Baggins, and I have a twin brother named Isengrim. Perhaps if you’d bothered to learn anything about my mother, you’d know of our existence.” Bella steps aside and lets him in. She leads him through the house to the dining room. “I was told by Fili and Kili there was supposed thirteen of them, I’ve only counted twelve.”

    Gandalf looks around and counts off on his fingers. “We appear to be one Dwarf short.”

    “He is late, is all,” Dwalin comments. He’s leaning against the doorway to the dining room, nursing a mug of ale. “He traveled North to a meeting of our kin, he will come.” Gandalf nods and they all gather in the dining room to eat their meal.

    The Dwarves are a rowdy bunch, tossing food and shouting at each other and spilling their drinks on themselves. They ate and ate until their plates, and Bilbo’s pantry, were empty. The Bagginses sat just outside of the dining room, nibbling on a few things they managed to snag from the table. Once they’re finished eating, they push away from the table and begin wandering around Bag End. Bilbo takes a doily from Nori after he wipes his mouth with it and places it back on the shelf. “Bebother and confusticate these Dwarves!” she cries.

    “Bilbo, what on Earth is the matter?” Gandalf asks.

    The Hobbit looks at the Wizard incredulously. “What’s the matter?” she repeats, “I’m surrounded by Dwarves, what are they doing here?”

    “They’re quite a merry gathering, once you get used to them,” Gandalf says.

    “I don’t want to get used to them!” She cries, “Look at the state of my kitchen!” She exits the kitchen and moves down the hall as she speaks, “They’ve pillaged my pantry, there’s absolutely nothing left, and I’m not even going to tell you what they’ve done to my bathroom, they’ve all but destroyed the plumbing! I don’t understand what they’re doing in my house!” She puts one hand on her hip and rubs her face with the other, she’s just about had it with these Dwarves.

    One of the younger ones, Ori, Bilbo remembers, approaches and asks what to do with his plate. Fili, the second youngest, approaches from Bilbo’s other side and takes the plate from the other Dwarf, then tosses it at her brother who throws it into the kitchen. There’s no smashing of the pottery, so Bilbo assumes someone else had caught it. But they don’t stop there. In the dining room, someone else is tossing the dirty plates to Fili, who throws them to Kili, who finally tosses them into the kitchen.

    If that wasn’t enough, the four who were still sitting at the table were clashing the forks and knives against each other. “Can you not do that? You’ll blunt them!”

    “Oh, did you hear that, lads?” Bofur asks, “She says we’ll blunt the knives!”

    Kili is the one who starts singing first, then Fili, then the rest of them as the toss the dishes back and forth to each other and where they finally end up in the kitchen.

    At the end of their song, Bilbo bursts into the dining room with her children close behind and sees all of her dishes were clean and neatly stacked on the dining table. The Dwarves were all laughing merrily at Bilbo’s worry for her crockery.

    There’s suddenly three hard knocks on the door, and the room falls silent. “He’s here,” Gandalf mutters. The Wizard then stands and moves to go to the front entrance, and the whole group follows him. He pulls the door open and someone speaks.

    “ _ Tharkûn _ ,” they say, and Bilbo’s heart stops. She knows that voice. “I thought you said this place would be easy to find. I lost my way, Twice. I would not have found it at all if it’d not been for that mark on the door.”

    Bilbo doesn’t even mention the mark on the door when she pushes through the crowd of Dwarves. “Ah, Bilbo, let me introduce the Leader of our Company--”

    Bilbo interrupts Gandalf. “I know who he is,” She says, holding her chin high with an irritated expression painting her features, “Master Oakenshield.”

    “Miss Baggins” The Dwarf replies, an almost similar look on his face.

    Bilbo moves to shut the door, bumping into him on purpose. She slams the door shut and turns back to face him. “Make yourself at home, I suppose. The rest of them already have.” She makes to move away, but stops and turns around, “But just remember to take off your boots and hang up your cloak.” she says bitterly, “It’s been a while, so you probably don’t remember the rules of the house.” She stares at him when she calls to her children. “Bella, Isengrim.” Thorin only notices the twins when they move. They stand on either side of their mother, their arms crossed and their expressions dark. Thorin is startled to see them and how much they look like him. But even though they look like him, their expressions are exactly the same as their mother’s.

    Bilbo turns on her heel and starts walking away, the twins glare at the Dwarf in front of them for another second before following suit, creating a triangle with their mother that parts the very, surprisingly, silent crowd of Dwarves easily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations  
> Tharkûn - the Dwarves name for Gandalf, means 'staff man'
> 
> And there we have it, the first rewritten chapter. And I'm so much happier with this. I currently have up to chapter four written, and Chapter four ends with them being a little less than halfway through their stay in Rivendell, so there'll probably be one more chapter with all of it being Rivendell and the one after might have a little bit of the Elven city, but will then cut to the Misty Mountains. Also, be prepared for more Khuzdul and ya know, other languages besides the Common tongue.  
> You can follow me on tumblr @ blubuddi974  
> I post stuff about this fic on there sometimes.


	2. On The Road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here we have bitter exes, a meeting with Thirteen idiots, and Bilbo is convinced to join the Company by Gandalf, because he is a meddling Wizard who needs everything to go exactly how he wants it to. Adventures are not what they are expected to be like, and Bilbo doesn't think it's all that bad until the rain starts.

    Bilbo enters the kitchen and grabs the pot of soup and sets it on the stove to be reheated. While it heats, she grabs two plates of bread slices and places them on the dining table so that every Dwarf would be able to reach. It doesn’t take long for the soup to be heated, and once it’s hot, she ladles it into a wooden bowl. She grabs the bowl and a spoon and goes back to the dining room. She places the bowl down onto the table almost carelessly, letting some of the contents slosh out of the bowl and onto the tabletop; then slams the spoon down onto the table. She then returns to the kitchen to pour a mug of ale and does the same with it as the bowl, but the liquid had accidentally sloshed onto Thorin’s forearm, rather than the table.

    The Dwarf gives her an angry look, and she returns it with a challenging one. Balin clears his throat to interrupt their bitter staring contest. “What of the meeting in Ered Luin?” the Old Dwarf asks, successfully getting both of their attention, “Did they all come?”

    Thorin nods, “Aye, envoys from all seven kingdoms.” There are quiet cheers from around the table by the Dwarves.

    “What did the Dwarves of the Iron Hills say?” Dwalin asks, “Is Dain with us?”

    Thorin sighs and shakes his head, causing disappointment to run through all the Dwarves. “They will not come. They say this quest is ours and ours alone.”

    “You’re going on a quest?” Bella asks suddenly.

    “Bella, my dear, could we have a little more light?” She nods and goes to grab another candle for the table. Gandalf pulls a folded piece of parchment from the inside of his robe and carefully unfolds it, placing it on the table. “Far to the East, over ranges and rivers,  beyond woodlands and wastelands, lies a single solitary peak.”

    Bella places the candle down on the table and looks over Gandalf’s shoulder to read from the map. “The Lonely Mountain. I’ve heard of that. Erebor is what Elrond calls it. Lost to a fire-drake in TA 2770. King Thranduil didn’t help the Dwarves due to the fact they withheld his late wife’s jewelry from him years beforehand.”

    That sparks an argument, and the Dwarves start to defend themselves, saying that Thranduil refused to give them their rightful pay. “Your king was riven by greed.” Bella says “He thought they were so beautiful that he felt he could not part with them so he kept them for himself, then made up the lie that they weren’t paid. King Thranduil paid up front for that jewelry to be restored so he could mourn his dead wife, and they were withheld from him.”

    The group of Dwarves look to Gandalf to get some information out of him. “She’s correct,” he says, “Thror was not in his right mind and he wanted to have the richest kingdom on Arda. Gems made of pure starlight are priceless and he wanted to add it to his collection.”

    “Enough,” Thorin orders, “We’re talking about the future of the Mountain, not it’s past.”

    “Aye, Oin has read the portents,” Gloin begins, causing grumbling among the others, “And the portents say it is time.”

    “Ravens have been seen flying back to the Mountain as it was foretold!” Oin says, glaring at a few of the other Dwarves, “When the birds of yore return to the mountain, the reign of the beast will end.”

    “Beast?” Bilbo asks, catching the attention of the Dwarves “What beast?”

    “That would be a reference to Smaug the Terrible,” Bofur says, matter-of-factly, “Chiefest and Greatest Calamity of our Age. Airborne firebreather, teeth like razors, claws like meat hooks. Extremely fond of precious metals.”

    “Yes I know what I dragon is,” Bilbo retorts, rather sassy.

    Ori stands suddenly. “I’m not afraid,” He says, “I’m up for it,” Bilbo sees his sister turns around to give their brother a calm, yet deadly, look; as if saying ‘what have you done to our sweet little brother,’ almost making the Hobbit laugh. “I’ll give him a taste of Dwarvish Iron right up his jacksie!” Dori grabs her youngest brother and yanks him back into his seat, scolding him.

    “The task would be difficult with an army behind us,” Balin interjects, “But we number just thirteen, and not thirteen of the best, nor brightest.” His statement causes offense amongst the other Dwarves.

    “Who are you calling dim?” one of them asks, Nori, Bilbo thinks.

    Fili interrupts, slamming her hand down onto the tabletop. “We may be few in number! But we’re fighters, all of us, to the last Dwarf!”

    Kili immediately adds his own comments after his sister finishes speaking. “And do you forget we have a Wizard in our Company!  _ Tharkûn  _ would have killed hundreds of Dragons in his time.”

    Bilbo nearly snorts at that. Unless you counted his dragon shaped fireworks, she didn’t think Gandalf had ever even encountered a dragon, let alone killed one. She’s proved right when Gandalf starts sputtering, not even speaking correctly. Gandalf’s lack of an answer caused a riot amongst the Dwarves, and Bilbo attempts to get them to stop shouting, but fails.

    “ _ Shazara _ !” Thorin shouts when he finally gets fed up with the shouting. “If we have read these signs, do you not think others will have read them too? Rumors have begun to spread. The dragon Smaug has not been seen for sixty years. Eyes look East to the Mountain, assessing, wondering, weighing the risk. Perhaps the vast wealth of our people now lies unprotected. Do we sit back and while others claim what is rightfully ours, or do we seize this chance to take back  _ Azsâlul’abad _ !  _ Du Bekar _ !  _ Du Bekar _ !” The Dwarf King’s speech gives the company of Dwarves new hope and they cheer. But their cheer does not last long.

    “You forget!” Balin says, “The Front Gate is sealed! There is no way into the Mountain.”

    “That, my dear Balin, is not entirely true,” Gandalf says, producing a large metal key seemingly out of nowhere.

    Thorin stares at the key like he’s looking at a ghost. “How came you by this?” he asks, his voice just above a whisper.

    “It was given to me by your father,” Gandalf informs, “By Thrain, for safekeeping. It is yours now” He hands the key over to Thorin and the Dwarf turns it around in his hands.

    “If there is a key,” Fili begins, “There must be a door.”

    “These runes speak of a hidden passage through the lower halls,” Gandalf says, circling said runes on the map with his pipe.

    Kili places a hand on his sister’s shoulder. “There’s another way in,” he says with a grin.

    Bilbo almost bursts into laughter. Balin was correct, they were definitely not the most polished spoons in the silverware drawer. 

    “If we can find it, that is,” Gandalf replies to Kili’s statement, “Dwarf doors are invisible when closed.” The Wizard sighs and jabs at the map with his index finger. “The answer is hidden somewhere in this map, but I do not have the skill to find it. But, there are others in Middle Earth who can.” Bilbo sees the skeptical look on Thorin’s face when Gandalf looks at him. “The task I have in mind will require a great deal of stealth and no small amount of courage.” Gandalf turns to look at Bilbo, who looks back with a confused expression. “But, if we are careful and clever, I believe that it can be done.”

    “That’s why we need a burglar!” Ori realizes.

    Bilbo nods, “A good one, too,” she says, “An expert, I’d imagine.”

    “And are you?” Gloin asks, leaning forward over the table to look at her.

    Bilbo looks confused for a moment, but once she realizes that they want her to be their burglar, she barks out a laugh. “Me? You want me to be your burglar? That’s rich. I’ve never stolen a thing in my life. I have been stolen from, though. And the culprit is in this room. Stolen quite a few things from me, he’d be better off being your burglar than I.”

    The Dwarven Company’s eyes slide down to look at Thorin. Balin was the first one to look away from their King, and speak. “I’m afraid I have to agree. She’s hardly burglar material.”

    “Aye,” Dwalin agrees, “The wild is no place for gentle folk who can neither fight nor fend for themselves.” Yet another argument sparks between the Dwarves, some of them agreeing that Bilbo was not Burglar material, and some saying that she could be.

    The argument hits a nerve with Gandalf and he rises from his seat, a darkness spreading across the room beginning from behind him. “If I say Bilbo Baggins is a burglar, then a burglar she is! Hobbits are remarkably light on their feet, they can pass unseen by most if the choose. And while the Dragon is accustomed to the smell of Dwarf, the scent of a Hobbit is all but unknown to him. Which gives us a distinct advantage.” Bilbo glares at the Wizard as he sits back down. “You asked me to find the fourteenth member of this company, and I have chosen Miss Baggins. There’s a lot more to her than appearances suggest, and she’s got a great deal more to offer than any of you know, including herself.”

    The Dwarf King sighs. “Fine. We’ll do it your way. Give her the contract.”

    Balin pulls out the contract from his coat and hands it to Bilbo, explaining it. She takes it reluctantly and begins to skim over the words with her children looking over her shoulders at the parchment. “Present company shall not be liable for injuries inflicted by or sustained as a consequence thereof, Including, but not limited to... “

    “Lacerations?” Bella reads

    “Evisceration?” Isengrim says next.

    “Incineration?” Bilbo finished.

    Bofur nods, “Oh aye, He’ll melt the flesh off your bones in the blink of an eye.” Bilbo blinks stupidly for a moment, trying to process this information.

    “You alright, lassie?” Balin asks, leaning forward.

    “Huh?” Bilbo hums, “Yes, fine.” She takes some deep breaths, trying to calm herself of the images her brain was supplying.

    “Think furnace with wings!” Bofur adds, “Flash of light, searing pain, then poof! Youre nothing more than a pile of ash!”

    Immediately, her brain offered the image of herself being burned alive by a fire breathing dragon, leaving her children with no one. It then supplied the image of her children in that situation, and suddenly it was dark.

 

    Bella manages to grab her mother before she hits floor and scoops her up into her arms and takes her to the sitting room while Isengrim goes to the kitchen to make her a cup of tea for when she wakes.

    Soon enough, Bilbo is awake and sitting in her father’s armchair with a mug of tea in her hands. Gandalf tries for a good many minutes to try and convince Bilbo to come on the quest, mentioning how she was as a child and going so far as to mention her great-great-great-great uncle, Bullroarer Took. She chuckles when he states that her ancestor had created the game of golf. “I do believe you made that up,” she says.

    Gandalf sit down in the chair opposite to her, a smile on his face. “Well, all good stories deserve embellishments,” he states, “You’ll have a tale or two to tell of your own when you get back.”

    Bilbo looks up. “Can you promise I will come back?” she asks.

    The Wizard offers her a sad smile and shakes his head. “No, but if you do, you will not be the same.”

    The Hobbit nods. “That’s what I thought,” she says, “I’m sorry, but I can’t sign this.”

    “Whatever did happen to you, Bilbo Baggins?” Gandalf wonders aloud, peering at the Hobbit.

    “I became a mother, Gandalf,” She says, “And not just to anyone’s children. The leader of the company that you are trying to get me to be a part of, he fathered my children; and he was the one who ran away from us. You can’t ask me to do this, Gandalf. Not this, not him.”

    The Grey Wizard gives her sympathetic look. “I understand, But will you just think about it? He wants his home back, Bilbo. Just imagine if your home was taken from you when you were a fauntling and were forced to live somewhere you didn’t know for most of your life. And if you finally had a chance to take your home back, wouldn’t you take it? I’m not asking you to do this because he’s your children’s father, I’m asking because he’s a person, someone who deserve to have his home returned to him.”

    Bilbo looks into the fire, not wanting to respond, and Gandalf stands and exits the room. She hears humming coming from the parlor, which was on the other side of the hall, and after a few moments, she can hear words being sung. The song pulls on her heartstrings, the verses singing of a home lost to a dragon and the desire to win it back.

    Bilbo looks down at the folded contract sitting on the ottoman in front of her. She frowns and looks up. “I’m going to hate myself for this, aren’t I?” she asks herself quietly. Bilbo hesitates before standing and grabbing a quill and inkpot and signing the line at the bottom. She lets the ink dry before putting the pot and quill back in their places and refolding the contract. 

    She leaves the sitting room and opens the doors to all of the bedrooms to air them out. She then goes to the linen closet and puts sheets and blankets on all of the bare mattresses. She returns to the parlor and tells the Dwarves she has bedrooms for them.

    “The man-sized bed has been reserved for Gandalf, but the twins agreed that they could share my bed with me for the night. So that leaves four other bedrooms to be shared. The beds aren’t very big and can only fit two or maybe three of you, so some of you might have to sleep on the floor.”

    “That’s quite fine with us, Miss Bilbo,” Bofur says, “Where are the rooms?”

    “The twins’ rooms are on the West side of the house, so just go left, and the other two and Gandalf’s room are on the right.”

    “Might I ask, why you have so many room but there is only the three of you?” Dori queries

    “My father built this home for my mother as a courting gift, and they intended to have quite a few children.”

    “Intended?”

    “My mother’s pregnancy with me took a toll on her body, the healers from Rivendell told her that having another child could kill her. So, they stopped trying to have children after I was born. My mother was devastated, but she never let it show. She told me before she died that she never wanted me to be an only child, but she also never wanted me to grow up without a mother.”

    “So they put the weight of filling these room with children onto your shoulders?” Dori asks

    Bilbo laughs. “Goodness, no! They told me that I didn’t have to have children if I didn’t want, that I can name an heir to the house if I do not want children. Because they asked me if I could at least keep it in the Baggins family, and I have someone to give it to if the Twins decide to go their own ways and not stay in the Shire. A cousin of mine, Drogo.”

    “That’s surprising, to me” Dori comments, “I always thought Hobbits were just comfort, peace, and having children.”

    “Well, some of us are. My Mother was not and neither was my father, they were in it for love, not social gain as some are. For example, my cousin, Lobelia. She’s my cousin by marriage, she married my cousin, Otho, purely for the fact that Otho was a Baggins, and that he had a possibility of owning Bag End at some point.”

    “That’s awful.”

    Bilbo nods and Dori ushers her brothers to a bedroom, claiming she wanted to sleep in a bed for one last time before they go on the quest. Bilbo catches sight of Balin and she calls out to him. He turns around and she approaches him, handing him the folded contract. She gives him a smile and then goes to find her children. She finds that the Twins and Fili and Kili had already bonded over the few hours they’d been together, as they were all asleep and curled together on the sofa in the sitting room. She chuckles and goes to her bedroom to grab her candle and goes around the house, blowing out the lights. She goes into her bedroom and changes into her nightgown, then begins to pack. 

    She picks out an outfit to wear the next day, then goes and packs an extra outfit, undergarments included, stuffing it in the bottom of her pack. She also packs a travel sewing kit which she places in between the extra clothes. She pulls her old bedroll from her closet and when she unrolls it, she remembers it was from when she was a child. She rolls it back up and puts it back, then picks up her candle and makes her way to the closet where she put most of her parent’s things. She retrieves her mother’s old bedroll and tucks it under her arm as she looks in the closet for anything else she might need. She spies the first aid kit and pulls it out, seeing what was inside. The herbs were dried up, so she’d need to replace them, but everything else inside seemed to still be good.

    She tucks it under her arm as well and closes the door, then goes back to her bedroom. She sets them at the bottom of her bed, and thinks about other things she’ll need. Money, toiletries, a waterskin, matches. She continues through her list as she walks through the house on her way to the bathroom to grab her toiletries. She puts her soap, hair oils, toothbrush, toothpaste, and comb inside of a wax lined bag and exits the bathroom. She decided to check the time as she passes the parlor and sees someone sitting in the chair that wasn’t facing her. She assumes it’s Isengrim as he’s known to have nightmares that wake him up in the middle of the night.

    “Grim, darling, did you have another one?” she asks and glances at the clock. It was nearing 1 in the morning. “Do you need me to make your tea?” The person turns around in the chair, and it’s not Isengrim, it’s Thorin. “Oh, I’m sorry, I thought you were Isengrim. You should be asleep, shouldn’t you?”

    “I can’t sleep,” he replies.

    “I can make you a mug of Isengrim’s tea, if you’d like,” she says, trying to keep her voice monotone, “He gets nightmares that wake him up and prevent him from sleeping. We put together a brew that helps him sleep.”

    “I’d like that,” he responds.

    Bilbo nods and exits the room, dropping her toiletries off in her bedroom and going to the kitchen to make him the tea. She enters the parlor from the second entrance, with the hot mug in her hands. “You’ll want to drink the whole thing, it help you better.” He nods his thanks and Bilbo leaves the room to gather the rest of her things. 

    After she ties her bag shut, she sets it on the floor by the foot of her bed and climbs into the bed and falls asleep.

 

    She wakes up to laughter in the kitchen. She rubs her eyes and stands, putting on her dressing gown and making her way to the kitchen. She smiles at the sight of the Twins and the two youngest Dwarves making breakfast. How Fili had become covered with flour, Bilbo did not know. But it was apparently very funny to the others.

    “What are you four doing to my kitchen?” Bilbo scolds playfully.

    “We were making breakfast,” Isengrim says, “But, Kili tripped and knocked the flour onto Fili.” The blonde Dwarrowdam scowls at her brother, who just laughs harder.

    Bilbo chuckles. “Come with me, darling, we’ll get you cleaned up.” Bilbo leads Fili to the backyard and has her take off her overcoat so they could beat the flour off the fabric. After most of the flour was off the coat, she takes her back inside to clean the flour from her face.

    “There you go, dear,” Bilbo says, wiping the last bit of flour from around Fili’s eyes.

    “Thank you, Miss Baggins,” Fili responds.

    “Please, call me Bilbo.”

    Fili smiles and nods and they go back to the kitchen together. When they return, Kili isn’t in the kitchen anymore. “Where’d Kili go?” Fili asks.

    “He’s in the dining room, setting the table” Bella answers. 

    “We figured he could do that without completely messing up,” Isengrim adds.

    Fili nods and goes to the dining room to assist her brother. “Alright, how much have you gotten done?” Bilbo asks

    “Just a few pastries and such,” Isengrim responds

    “We’re waiting for a majority of the company to be awake before we get into the short timed cooking,” Bella informs.

    Bilbo nods. “So, Mum, why is there a pack at the foot of your bed?” Isengrim asks.

    “Were you two snooping again?”

    “Maybe,” Bella says.

    “Are we going with them?” Isengrim asks.

    “ _ We _ are not going anywhere,” Bilbo says, “ _ I _ am going, and  _ you two _ are staying here.”

    “But that’s not fair!” Bella complains.

    “I’m not disagreeing, but Mum…” Isengrim heistates. “Are you sure you want to be around  _ him _ for an unprecedented amount of time?”

    Bilbo sighs. “I’ve thought about it. And I’m not doing it for him. I doing it for the rest of them and the other Dwarves who’ve lost their home to the dragon.”

    “But why can’t we go?” Bella asks

    “Because I said so,” Bilbo retorts.

    “But you can’t exactly stop us from following you.”

    Bilbo tilts her head and raises an eyebrow, “Can’t I?”

    “Well, you could tell us to stay here, but you can’t exactly force us to stay.”

    “Bella, stop it,” Isengrim groans.

    “I’m just saying.” Bella shrugs and turns back to the oven.

    Bilbo stands there with a scrunched thinking face for a few minutes before sighing. “You’d better pack quickly, if you’re not ready by the time the Dwarves have finished breakfast, you’re not going.” To her surprise, both of the twins cheer and dash out of the kitchen.

    Fili and Kili poke their heads into the kitchen. “What was that all about?” Kili asks.

    “I’m letting them come with us as long as they’re ready by the time everyone’s finished breakfast,” Bilbo informs, “Speaking of, do you mind going and waking everyone?”

    They shake their heads and separate to go wake the Company. Bilbo puts together the biggest breakfast she’s ever made and has it all spread out on the table before all the Dwarves are seated.

    Bilbo leans against the kitchen doorway, eating her breakfast as her two children run back and forth asking for a variety of things. She knows that even if they didn’t finish getting packed before the company finished breakfast, they’ll still probably follow. That’s not to imply that they don’t listen to her, they always listen to her. It’s only that if she was very stern about them not going, they would listen and stay home. And she isn’t sure if she doesn’t want them to go. She doesn’t want them to be in danger, that’s for sure, and this quest would definitely be dangerous. But, she also doesn’t know any of the Dwarves, and sure, Fili, Kili, and Bofur seem friendly enough, but having someone familiar would be nice.

    Isengrim and Bella are packed and dressed before even Bilbo is finished eating her breakfast. She laughs when they sit at the table in the kitchen, breathing heavily.

    “I’m starving,” Bella says.

    “There might still be something in the dining room,” Bilbo replies, “You’ll have to fight for it, though.” The twins share a terrified look before glancing into the dining room. Bilbo laughs and produces two plates of food to place in front of the twins. They give their mother grateful looks and tuck into their food. Bilbo places her empty plate into the sink and leaves the kitchen to go to her bedroom to get dressed. 

    When she returns to the kitchen, the dishes are being washed by Isengrim, Fili and Kili are drying them, and Bella is putting them away. She kisses her children’s cheeks and thanks them, then leaves the kitchen to go into the study. She writes a quick note to Hobson Gamgee, her gardener, about the situation, and asks him to keep an eye on her home; then, once the ink dries, she folds it and puts it in an envelope along with her keys, then seals it and addresses it to him. She takes the envelope, and tells her children she’ll be right back. She sticks the envelope inside the Gamgee’s mailbox, then returns to her home.

    She enters the Parlor where Balin and Thorin were in a hushed discussion. “Hello?” They turn around and look at her. “Are we staying any longer, or can we go now?” She asks, “I’m just concerned because the sun is coming up and we still need our ponies, yes?”

    They stare at her for a moment before Balin speaks. “You’re coming with us?” he asks

    Bilbo nods slowly. “Yes… Didn’t you open the contract? I signed it.” Balin pulls the contract from his coat and unfolds it, reading Bilbo’s signature at the bottom.

    He gives her a smile and refolds the contract and puts it away. “Welcome, Miss Baggins, to the company of Thorin Oakenshield.”

    She smiles back at him, before remembering her children. “Oh, Bella and Isengrim are coming as well, don’t they need to sign one as well?”

    Balin and Thorin have a short discussion in their language, before Balin turns back to her. “We could just add onto your own, rather than writing up two more, if that’s alright.”

    Bilbo nods. “That’s fine.” So, Balin adds onto the contract two lines for her children to sign, and they do; and soon enough, they’re leaving Bag End. Bilbo pretends not to hear the whispers, she knows they’re probably rude, so she doesn’t listen.

    But there is one conversation that she hears clearly. “Isn’t that Bilbo’s Dwarf?”

    “Which one?”

    “The Dark haired one.”

    “The young one?”

    “No, you clot, the one in the front.”

    “Oh, I think that is.”

    The first Hobbit hums. “Maybe he’s finally come back to take her and her bastards back to his filthy home.” They cackle and move back into the first Hobbit’s home.

    Bilbo looks down, watching her feet as she walks. Two hands slip into her own and she smiles at her children, giving them a light squeeze. With her children’s support, she hold her chin high as they continue toward the stables. The Twins get their usual ponies, and they get the most docile pony for their mother, and the rest of the company just gets a random pony.

    “Does she have a name?” Bilbo asks her children.

    “No, they’re not really given names,” Isengrim informs, “We’ve named ours since they are the ones we usually go to.”

    “And what have you named yours?” Bilbo queries.

    “Mine’s called Westley,” Bella grins.

    “I called mine Smokey,” Isengrim says.

    Bilbo drags her hand over the pony’s neck and hums, thinking of a name. “I think I’ll call you Myrtle,” She says to the creature, “Is that alright with you?” The pony neighs and Bilbo laughs. “I’m gonna go with yes.”

    As Isengrim is showing Bilbo how to dress her pony, Bildr approaches them. “Miss Bilbo!”

    Bilbo smiles widely. “Hello Bildr! How are you this fine morning?”

    “I’m doing well, yourself?”

    “As well as I can be,” Bilbo replies.

    Bildr looks around at the surrounding Dwarves and laughs. “This is more  _ Khazâd _ than I’ve ever seen in the Shire. What are they all doing here?”

    “I think it’s a secret,” Bilbo admits, “So I’m not sure if I’m allowed to tell you.”

    “Are you going with them?” Bilbo looks away and scratches the back of her neck. “You are. Why, Bilbo?”

    “I’ve been hired by them.” Bildr looks absolutely scandalized when Bilbo stops speaking, making her blush and wave her hands. “No, no, no! Not like that! I’m not a bed warmer!” She shouts, making the company of Dwarves look over at them with questioning looks. “I’m not a bed warmer,” she repeats, quieter this time, “I’ve been hired to help them with their quest.”

    “When will you be back?”

    “I’m not sure I will be back,” Bilbo admits, “It’s a dangerous quest, there’s no guarantee I will return. There is only the hope that I will.” 

    Bildr takes Bilbo’s left hand and places their other hand on her cheek. “I’m going to miss you,” They say.

    “You’re just going to miss my baking,” Bilbo retorts.

    Bildr barks out a laugh and pulls Bilbo into a tight hug. “I will miss your baking,” the Dwarf admits, “But I will also miss your company.“

    “I’m going to miss you too,” Bilbo admits, hugging them back. Bildr kisses her forehead and gives her one more squeeze before letting go. They also give Bilbo’s children hugs and wishes of good luck. 

    “Miss Baggins,” Balin calls, “We need to head out.”

    Bilbo nods, as do her children, and they start to move to their ponies. But Bilbo stops and turns around to hug Bildr one more time. She puts her chin on their shoulder and whispers to them, “Bildr, you are the best friend I’ve ever had. I’m going to miss you, so much.”

    She pulls away from the hug and then moves to her pony. She waves to Bildr before climbing onto her pony and follows the company down the trail.

    Bofur rides up to her side about twenty minutes into travelling. “We’re all wondering, who’s the Dwarf that you were saying goodbye to?”

    “Bildr, our blacksmith,” Bilbo answers.

    “A good friend of yours?”

    “Yes, they keep me company when the twins are away.”

    “ _ Oh _ , okay. That’s nice.”

    Bilbo glares at the hatted Dwarf. “It’s not like that. Yes, we flirt, but that’s all. We are not interested in having a relationship. They are married to their craft, and I do not intend on ever getting married.”

    Bilbo nudges her pony forward to ride beside Balin and to get away from the giggling Dwarves. “I apologize for them,” Balin says, “They’re immature.”

    Bilbo nods, “I’d rather you not,” She informs, “I’ve had questions like that before. I think that if Bildr was married to their craft and I wasn’t adamant about not getting married, we probably would have been together since the twins were nine. Bildr was the one who bought the forge, and they became a very good friend of mine, my best friend. They helped me and I am grateful for them.”

    Balin tilts his head, “Why since they were nine?”

    “That’s when I finally got over it,” Bilbo admits, “The Twins were finally at that point where they weren’t reaching any milestones very quickly, so I stopped the letters. I finally let go of everything and that’s when I really let Bildr become my friend.”

    Balin holds a surprised expression as he glances toward the front of the company where Thorin was leading. Just as Bilbo is going to ask Balin why he made the expression, Gandalf announces his arrival and chases her thought away.

    “You’ve finally decided to join us,  _ Tharkûn, _ ” Thorin comments as the Wizard rides up to beside him. 

    “I had other business elsewhere,” the Wizard responds, vaguely. Bilbo rolls her eyes, she remembers her mother talking about how Gandalf was vague and was always talking in riddles; which is where she supposes her mother learned it.

    They travel through East Farthing, heading toward Bree, telling stories and singing songs to pass the time; and only stopping for meals. The meals were few and far between for the Bagginses, as they were used to five and seven meals a day. But despite the few meals and aching behind from riding a pony, Bilbo began to think adventures weren’t all that bad.

    As they moved out of Hobbit Lands and into the Lone Lands, their surroundings changed drastically. In the Hobbit Lands, there were passing an inn or two every so often or passing a Dwarf or Farmer going the same or opposite direction as them. But Lone Lands differ from the Hobbit lands; there were no inns or people any longer, and the road they traveled on was getting worse the further they went along. Thorin halts the company just before sundown, and they set up camp on a small cliff. Most of them pass out just after dinner, but Bilbo finds she can’t sleep.

    She glances around at the camp to see who was still awake. Fili and Kili sit at the fire with Bella, Isengrim was asleep on his sister’s shoulder, and Gandalf was leaning against a tree and smoking his pipe. Bilbo sits up and sighs in defeat before standing up and walking over to Myrtle. She mutters to the pony and feeds her an apple before being startled by screeching in the distance. She turns around and points over her shoulder. “What was that?” she asks

    “Orcs,” Kili murmurs.

    “Orcs?” Bilbo repeats, moving away from the cliff and closer to the fire.

    “Throat cutters,” Fili confirms, “There’ll be dozens of them out there. The Lone Lands are crawling with them.”

    “They strike in the wee small hours when everyone’s asleep,” Kili continues, “Quick and quiet, no screams. Just lots of blood.” Bilbo’s face drains of colour as she glances back over the cliff. Fili and Kili start to chuckle and Bella sends a hard kick into her cousin’s leg, causing Kili to cry out and Isengrim to wake up.

    “You think that’s funny?” Thorin startles them by speaking. “You think a night raid by Orcs is a joke?”

    The siblings look down with guilt painting their features. “We didn’t mean anything by it.” Kili comments.

    “No, you didn’t,” Thorin says, “You know nothing of the world.” The exiled King walks away toward the cliff to glance out over it.

    Grim looks at his sister in confusion before signing to her ‘ **What just happened?** ’

    ‘ **Fee and Kee were messing with us and it made him mad.** ’ Bella explains, ‘ **then he had to go be dramatic and look over cliff.** ’

    ‘ **He’s being dramatic? Like you have any room to talk.** ’

    Bella punches her brother in the arm and he laughs at her. Balin approaches the fire and leans against the stone. “Don’t mind him,” the old Dwarf says, “Thorin has more cause than most to hate Orcs.” Balin goes on to tell the story of the Battle of Azanulbizar. How the Orcs had taken Moria, and their leader, Azog the Defiler, had vowed to wipe the line of Durin from existence. He tells them how Thror was killed, Thrain had gone missing, and Thorin’s brother, Frerin, was also killed during the battle. And how Thorin faced down the Pale Orc alone. 

    Thorin had told Bilbo about the Battle before, but he certainly didn’t tell it like Balin did. Thorin never mentioned to Bilbo that he was royalty or that he had a brother. The Dwarf had mentioned his sister and his nephews, but never that fact that he had a brother.

    By the end of the story, the whole of the company was awake, most of them standing and staring at their King.

    “And the Pale Orc,” Bilbo says, turning back to Balin, “What happened to him?”

    As Balin is about to answer, Thorin speaks instead. “He slunk back into the hole whence he came,” he states, “That filth dies of his wounds long ago.”

    Bilbo sighs and mutters to herself, “I wasn’t asking  _ you _ , but alright.”

    Eventually, Bilbo falls asleep and gets a good few hours before she’s being woken up and they’re moving again.

 

    As May continued on, so did the company. And with May, came rain. Bilbo loved the rain, adored it really. But, she loved  _ watching _ it. She liked to be usually inside and watching from the window, or if the rain wasn’t too heavy, she would sit outside under the protection of the back porch. But she hated being in the rain. So, when the rain started and she discovered she forgot her cloak, she was irritated, to say the least. Dwalin offered her a weather-stained green hood and cloak that he brought as a spare. She accepted and they protected her from the rain for the most part. Unfortunately, the rain did not seem to want to let up, so they travelled and slept in the rain for days.

    Bilbo mutters to herself, annoyed at the rain. She wasn’t the only one either, the rain had begun to put a damper on everyone’s mood, not just her own, but she does seem to have the sourest mood.

    “ _Tharkûn_ ,” Dori calls from a few yards behind Bilbo, “Can’t you do something about this deluge?”

    The Wizard glances over his shoulder at the Dam. “It is raining, Mistress Dwarf, and it will continue to rain, until the rain is done.” Bilbo would giggle at the Wizard’s sass if her mood wasn’t so bad. “If you wish to change the weather of the world, you should find yourself another Wizard.”

    “Are there any?” Bilbo asks.

    “What?”

    “Other Wizards,” Bilbo clarifies.

    “There are five of us,” Gandalf informs, “The greatest of our order is Saruman the White. Then there are the two Blue Wizards.” The Wizard pauses as he thinks. “You know, I’ve quite forgotten their names.”

    “And who is the fifth?” Bilbo queries.

    “That would be Radagast the Brown,” Gandalf responds.

    “And is he a great Wizard, or is he… more like you?” Bilbo’s question made her children and the Dwarves in earshot laugh.

    Gandalf turns to look at the Hobbit, almost offended at the question. “I think he’s a very great Wizard,” he tells her, “In his own way.  He prefers the company of animals to others. He keeps a watchful eye over the vast forest lands to the east, and a good thing too. For always evil will look to find a foothold in this world.”

    The company continues on down the trail. Somewhere behind the stormy clouds, the sun had decided to set and it became too dark for them to keep going. They stop and set up camp underneath a clump of trees. The rain still pours, but the space under the trees was mostly dry. The space was also small, making them need to squish together.

    Bilbo finds that she’s unable to sleep, later into the night. Not because of the rain, on the contrary, really. The sound and smell of the rain, as well as the cool air caused by it, was lulling her to sleep. What was bothering her was that, in his sleep, Bofur had turned onto his side and was now pressed against Bilbo’s back, with one arm curled around her waist. She knew he wasn’t playing a joke, because she could tell that he was definitely asleep. And if she was being honest, he was quite comfortable. So, she adjusts herself and lets herself be lulled to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> Tharkûn - Dwarves name for Gandalf, 'staff man'  
> Shazara - 'silence' or something like that, basically a way to say 'shut up'  
> Azsâlul’abad - Dwarves name for Erebor according to Dwarrow Scholar  
> Du Bekar - 'to arms'  
> Khazâd - 'Dwarves'
> 
> There you have it, chapter two! I'm really enjoying writing this now, and I'm hoping you are enjoying reading it. I haven't got much of chapter five written because I'm not sure where I want to go with it at the moment, I think that'll be the last chapter with most or all of it being in Rivendell and the six will probably be the last chapter for AUJ and then I'll go into DOS and with me rewriting it, that one will also probably be a bit longer.  
> Anyway, you can follow me on tumblr @ blubuddi974  
> I occasionally post things about this fic on there as well as ideas for other fics I'm writing but haven't posted because this really takes up most of my life.


	3. The Trollshaws

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be warned that this is the beginning of my experimentation with Boffins, but again I will say that it doesn't really matter too much because Bagginshield is the end game.

    The rain had finally decided to let up days later while they were sleeping, so the Company was pleasantly surprised when they woke up the next morning. They picked up travelling again and after moving along for a few days, the reached a small river that wasn’t too flooded from the rain and decides it’s a good place to bathe. They hang their clothes up to dry where they can, or drape them over stones in the sun, and go into the water. The four females in the group move further up stream to get some privacy, while the males stay near their things.

    The ladies share songs and stories while they bathe, while the males splash at each other and roughhouse in the water. Bilbo was the first to finish bathing, and she leaves the water and wraps herself in the mostly dried cloak. She then makes her way to where her clothes were, only to find her undergarments missing. She rolls her eyes at the immaturity and goes to her bag to pull out her extras. She puts on her clean underwear and grabs her dried clothing, then moves behind a tree to get dressed. She appears from behind the tree dressed and with the cloak draped over her arm. She finds that her underwear have been put back where they were before they were taken, but this time they were soaking wet. She sighs and picks them up, wringing the water out of them and placing them back in the sun. She grabs her comb from her pack and start to comb out the knots in her hair.

    Bofur approaches her, only the bottom of his longjohns and trousers on. Bilbo glances at his fuzzy chest before looking back at his face, or more so, his head. His floppy hat was no longer resting on it. “You’re not wearing your hat,” she comments, “I was beginning to think it was attached to you.”

    Bofur laughs, “I don’t wear it when I bathe.” Bilbo nods. “I wanted to apologize for Nori. He likes to take things.”

    Bilbo nods, “Well I’d prefer he be the one to apologize, but I suppose this is good enough.”

    “But to be fair,” Bofur says, picking up the bottoms, “What is this supposed to cover? There so little fabric.” He laughs and pulls the fabric taut.

    Bilbo turns red and snatches her underwear back, “It covers enough!” she cries stuffing them into her bag, not caring that they were getting things wet. Bofur laughs, leaning forward and resting his hands on his knees. Bilbo storms off and sits on a stone away from the Company. Bella approaches her mother still giggling. “Bella, if you are just going to laugh at me, go away.”

    “I don’t think he meant any harm, Mum,” Bella says, “Our underwear is pretty small compared to theirs.”

    “I know, but it still didn’t give him the right to pick them up and make fun.”

    “I know. Will you braid my hair?”

    Bilbo sighs and nods, “Sit.” Bella does as she’s told and Isengrim strolls over and sits in front of his sister. The Twins have nearly the exact same braids, braids that start at their temples and go to the back of their heads to form one larger braid; this is to keep their hair out of their faces. The difference is that Bella has two on each side, and Isengrim only has the one on each side. Isengrim also has one other braid, one that comes off the left side of his head. This braid signifies his courtship to Elenion. After they finish bathing, the Company puts together a small meal before moving on. 

    Before long, there in a place called the Trollshaws, and Bilbo doesn’t like that name one bit. She hasn’t just noticed, she noticed quite a bit ago, that Thorin is no longer leading the Company. Gandalf has been leading the way for some time now, and Bilbo has the feeling it’s not for nothing. The two of them have been fighting over going to Rivendell for weeks now and it’s starting to get annoying; and not just to the Company, but to Gandalf himself. The Wizard has been becoming very irritated with the Dwarf King, insisting that they need to stop in Rivendell.

    At last, after they stopped and made camp, and Gandalf had insisted that they move on and make toward the Hidden Valley, and Thorin, yet again, refused; the Wizard turns on his heel and storms off. “Everything alright, Gandalf?” Bilbo asks, “Where are you going?”

    “To seek the council of the only one around here who’s got any sense,” the Wizard replies, not stopping to speak.

    “And who would that be?”

    “Myself, Miss Baggins!” Bilbo makes a face, offended at the Wizard’s words, and Gandalf leaves the Company alone. She turns to Balin, who is standing beside her. “Is he coming back?”

    The elder Dwarf looks in the direction of where the Wizard went and shrugs in response. Thorin tells Bombur to start preparing their dinner, and the large Dwarf asks for Bilbo to assist him. She does, first asking her children to go hunting, and then rooting through her pack to find the right seasonings. They bring back a few rabbits that Bombur takes care of. Bilbo cooks the diced meat with the correct seasonings.

    “What recipe are you using?” Bombur asks

    Bilbo smiles. “Family secret,” she says, “Can’t tell. It’s an old Took recipe, only ever been written down once. Now, it’s all up here.” she taps her temple. “Along with a few others. There are some I can give to you. There’s a cookbook that I have in Bag End, it holds one of my favorite recipes. And don’t worry about it being complicated, they’re fairly simple. You could teach a moron how to make most of the recipes, I know I did.” She glances up and stares at Thorin who is staring back with an angry look. She blows him a mocking kiss before looking back at the meat in the pan.

    Bofur bursts into laughter, as do a few others. “You two really hate each other, don’t you?” he asks.

    “I don’t  _ hate _ him,” Bilbo replies, “I just dislike him greatly and enjoy tormenting him because it amuses me to see him turn red when he gets angry.” Once the meat is finished cooking, they begin to put together the stew. 

    By night, Gandalf still hasn’t returned and Bilbo is getting worried. Bofur tries to take her mind off of the Wizard by telling her to take two bowls of stew to Fili and Kili. She takes the wooden bowls and makes her way into the woods. She approaches the siblings who were standing side-by-side and staring out at the ponies; she tries to hand them the bowls but they don’t take them. She glances between them and asks, “What’s the matter?”

    “We’re supposed to be looking after the ponies,” Kili begins.

    “Only, we’ve encountered a  _ slight _ problem,” his sister adds.

    “We had eighteen ponies.”

    “And now there’s sixteen.”

    The siblings startle the Hobbit when they move suddenly and they lead her through the woods to a group trees that weren’t just knocked down, but ripped from the dirt. “Daisy and Bungo are missing,” Kili informs.

    “Well, that is  _ not _ good,” Bilbo says, then notices the trees and gestures to one with a bowl, “And  _ that _ is not good  _ at all _ ! Shouldn’t we tell Thorin?”

    Fili hesitates but declines, then tells Bilbo they thought she’d be interested, being their official burglar and all. She assesses the situation and relays the information back to the Dwarf siblings. Suddenly, Fili shushes them.

    “There’s a light,” she says, “Over here.” The three of the move to crouch behind another uprooted tree. They look in the direction of where the warm glow was coming from, and hear grunting and laughing coming from that direction.

    “What is it?” Bilbo asks.

    “Trolls.”  The two Dwarves hop over the tree and start running towards the light. Bilbo starts to follow, but remembers why she came out here in the first place and goes back for the bowls, her motherly instincts kicking in. Fili and Kili hide behind one tree and Bilbo jumps behind another when they hear a Troll stomping by, two more ponies under his arms.

    "He's got Myrtle and Minty!" She whispers, "I think they're going to eat them. We have to do something." The siblings glance at each other and then at the Hobbit, an idea popping into their heads.

    Kili stands and takes a bowl from her, "Yes, you should," He shoves her over behind the other tree, next to his sister. "Mountain Trolls are slow and stupid, and you're so small, they'll never see you!" Bilbo holds up her index finger, ready to inform them that was not what she meant. "It's perfectly safe, we'll be right behind you."

    Fili takes the other bowl and gently nudges her out from the cover of the tree, "If you run into trouble, hoot twice like a barn owl and once like a brown owl." Bilbo gets this confused very quickly, but by the time she turns around, the two of them are gone. She rolls her eyes and makes her way around the camp, listening to the Trolls argue.

    “Mutton yesterday, mutton today, and, blimey, if it don’ look like mutton again tomorrow,” The Troll in the apron, Bert, complains.

    “Quit your gwiping!” the one named William, though he prefered Bill, responds, “These ain’t sheep, these is fwesh nags!” The Troll places the ponies into the pen with the other two.

    The third and final Troll, called Tom, lets out a whine. “I don’ like ‘orse, never ‘ave. Not enough fat on ‘em.”

    “Better than leathery ol’ farmer,” Bert responds, “All skin an’ bone ‘e was. I’m still pickin’ bits o’ ‘im outta me teeth.” Bilbo stops watching them as Tom begins to sneeze and sneaks her way through the trees toward the pen. Tom sneezes directly into the large pot that was sitting over the fire, making Bilbo cringe in disgust. “Oh  _ lovely _ , that is!” Bert comments, “A floater!”

    William hums, “Might improve the flavor!” he suggests.

    “Oh, well there’s more where that came from!” Tom snorts, building up the mucus in his throat, ready to spit into the pot.

    “Oh no you don’t!” Bert exclaims, gripping Tom’s nose between his meaty fingers causing the other Troll to squeal in pain. He shoves Tom down back onto his seat by his nose and orders him to sit down. Tom grabs his very large handkerchief and sneezes into it; and Bilbo goes further toward the pen, trying to figure out how to free the ponies. Bilbo has to jump for cover when Tom suddenly turns toward the pen of ponies.

    “I hope you’re gonna gut these nags,” he says “I don’ like the stinky parts.”

    Bert whacks the other troll on the head with his metal spoon and orders him to sit down again. “I’m starving!” William complains, “Are we having ‘orse tonight or what?”

    Bilbo doesn’t listen for a moment when she notices the large blade on Tom’s belt. She looks back at the ropes, forming a plan in her head, and starts to make her way towards him. She makes a few attempts, listening to the Trolls make conversation, failing until she just decides to book it to stand behind Tom. She then realizes the flaw in her plan, when she becomes unsure how to acquire the knife. She reaches for it a few times trying to figure out how to grab it, but when she finally want to grab it, the Troll stands to scratch his rear. She crouches to hide and frowns deeply, the disgust and annoyance evident on her face, and the Troll finally sits down.

    “Oh, me guts are grumbling,” William complains, as Bilbo slowly begins to stand, “I’ve got to snaffle something! Flesh, I need flesh!”

    Tom reaches back on instinct to grab his handkerchief, even though it was still in his hand, and he grabs Bilbo, sneezing directly on her. He shrieks when he sees her in his hand. “Blimey! Bert, Bert! Look what’s come outta me ‘ooter!” He cries, pointing at the Hobbit, who was in a particular type of shock at being covered in troll snot, “It’s got arms and legs and everything!”

    The two other Trolls come to look into the handkerchief. “Wha’ is it?” Bert asks.

    “I don’ know! But I don’ like the way it wriggles around!” Tom throws Bilbo onto the ground, and she stood as quick as she could as she had the wind knocked out of her. She breathes heavily as William points a knife at her.

    “Wha’ are you then?” he asks, “An oversized squirrel?”

    “I’m a burglar-- ah, Hobbit!” she quickly corrects, not having time for being offended from being called a squirrel.

    “A burglarhobbit?” Tom questions, looking at the others to see if they had an answer, though they didn’t, they only had more questions.

    “Can we cook ‘im?” William asks

    “We can try!” Tom answers, lunging for the Hobbit. She dodges him, running to her right, but is blocked by Bert.

    “He wouldn’t make more than a mouthful!” the cook declares, “Not when ‘e’s skinned and boned!” Bert shoves Bilbo back with his spoon, and into William.

    “P’rhaps there’s more burglarhobbits ‘round these parts!” he suggests, pointing his knife at her, “Might be enough for a pie!” He shoves her back again and the other two make grabs at her, but she dodges them and runs for the pony pen. William catches her then, grabbing her by her legs and holding her upside down. “Are there any more of you little fellas hiding where you shouldn’t?”

    “No!” Bilbo replies.

    “He’s lying!” Tom accuses.

    “No I’m not!”

    “Hold ‘is toes over the fire! Make ‘im squeal!” Ironically, Kili jumps out of the woods and connects his blade with Tom’s leg, making the Troll squeal. The Troll hops on his uninjured leg and tumbles over when Kili slashes his sword against his foot.

    “Drop her!” Kili shouts, adjusting his sword in his hands.

    “You wot?”

    “I said, drop her.”

    William snarls and tosses Bilbo at Kili, and she’s grateful that the Dwarf catches her, even though they both tumbled to the ground. The rest of the Company burst from the trees, charging the Trolls. Bilbo moves around the battle, avoiding being attacked by the members of the Company by accident or crushed by the Trolls, as she searches for Tom’s knife. She spots it and dashes toward it and then to the ponies and saws at the rope, freeing the ponies. William spots her and snatches her up, grabbing the limbs on her right side while Bert takes hold of her left limbs.

    “Bilbo!” Kili cries and lurches forward, only to be halted by Thorin. Bilbo looks out among the Company, unable to find her children.

    “Lay down your arms!” William orders, “Or we’ll rip ‘is off!” Bilbo gives Thorin a pleading look, knowing that the Company will follow him. She’s too afraid to speak so she does so with her eyes, pleading and praying.  _ Don’t let them kill me _ , she thinks,  _ Don’t let my children become orphans. I know we’re not on the greatest terms right now, but please, don’t let me die _ .

    Thorin sighs and stabs his sword into the ground and the rest of the Company follows suit. Bilbo breathes a sigh of relief, glad that she’s not dead, even though they’re being stuffed into sacks and tied to a spit to be roasted. Bilbo is one of the few who is not put on the spit, along with Thorin, Fili, Kili, Balin, Bombur, Oin, and Gloin. Bilbo lays in the burlap sack, trying to think of a way to stall them, to keep them alive for just a little longer until Gandalf arrives, but nothing ever comes.

    “Don’t bother cooking ‘em,” Tom says, looking at the sacked Dwarves, “Let’s just sit on ‘em, and squash ‘em into jelly!”

    “They should be sautéed and grilled, with a sprinkle of sage.” Bert says.

    Tom nods. “That does sound quite nice,” he admits.

    “Nevermind the seasoning,” William says, “We ain’t got all night. Dawn ain’t far away, let’s get a move on. I don’t fancy being turned to stone!” And there it is, Bilbo’s idea. 

    “Wait!” she shouts “You are making a terrible mistake,” .

    “You can’t reason with them,” Dori shouts, “They’re Halfwits!”

    “Halfwits?” Bofur repeats, “Then what does that make us?”

    She shoves herself up onto her feet and hops toward the Trolls. “I meant with the, uh- with the- with the seasoning,” she clarifies.

    Bert leans forward, putting his hands on his knees. “What about the seasoning?” he questions.

    “Well, have you smelt them?” she asks, “You’re going to need something a lot stronger than sage before you plate this lot up!”

    “Traitor!” Thorin shouts, and Bilbo has no doubt that he is now regretting his decision to let her live. She rolls her eyes and hops forward.

    “What do you know about cooking Dwarf?” William questions.

    “Shut up! Let the, uh, Flurgaburburahobbit talk” Bert moves closer to the Hobbit, wanting to listen.

    Bilbo smiles brightly at the Troll in thanks before she speaks. “The secret to cooking Dwarf is…” Bilbo pauses, realizing she hadn’t thought about this part. She’s just been winging it up until this point.

    “Come on,” Bert prods, “Tell us the secret.”

    “I’m telling you!” Bilbo insists, “The secret is to… skin them first!” The Dwarves explode in outrage, Bilbo even hears Gloin threaten to skin her just before Bert asks for his filleting knife.

    “What a load of wubbish!” William declares, “I’ve eaten plenty with their skins on. Scarf ‘em I say, boots and all!” Bilbo sees the rustling of the trees around them, and in a gap she sees Gandalf’s tall form rushing upward.

    “He’s right,” Tom comments, and Bilbo is beginning to think that he’s just there to agree with the other two. “Nothin’ wrong with a bit o’ raw Dwarf!” the Troll goes back around to the pile of sacked Dwarves, and snatches Bombur up. He dangles the fat Dwarf over his head, ready to eat him. “Nice and crunchy!”

    “No! Not that one!” Bilbo cries, “He’s infected!”

    “You wot?”

    “Yeah, he’s got worms in his...” Bilbo’s mind panics for a moment before she blurts out the finishing word to the sentence, the one that make Tom drop Bombur back onto the pile with a disgusted cry, “Tubes!” She gets a look of confusion plastered on her face before she composes herself and goes off of that. “In fact, they all have. They’re infested with parasites! It’s a terrible business. I wouldn’t risk it, I really wouldn’t.”

    “Parasites?” Oin repeats, “Did she say parasites?”

    Kili nods in answer to the partially deaf healer. “We don’t have parasites! You have parasites!” Bilbo rolls her eyes in frustration, and thankfully, Thorin finally caught onto her plan and sends a hard kick at Kili, making him cry out. The Company is silent for a moment as they all realize the point and they all start shouting at once that they’re all riddled with parasites and not good for eating at all.

    William frowns and steps away from the spit. “What would you have us do then?” he questions, “Let ‘em all go?”

    Bilbo shrugs and mumbles out a “Well…”

    The Troll jabs at Bilbo with his finger. “You think I don’t know what you’re up to?” He stands straight and moves back to the spit and Bilbo fumes at being poked. “This little ferret is taking us for fools!”

    Bilbo turns thunderous, “Ferret?” She repeats.

    “Fools?” Bert asks.

    And finally, _ finally _ , Gandalf makes himself known. “The Dawn will take you all!”

    The Trolls look up at the Wizard, who was standing on a boulder. “Who’s that?” William asks.

    “No idea,” Bert replies.

    “Can we eat ‘im too?” Tom queries.

    Gandalf steps to the side and drives his staff down onto the stone, breaking it in two. The larger half tumbles down and sunlight floods into the space. The Trolls cry out in pain as the sun turns them to stone and there is a short silence before the Dwarves start cheering and laughing at the death of the Trolls. Bella and Isengrim appear out of the woods and help their mother and the Company out of their sacks, admitting they had run off to find Gandalf when Fili and Kili had arrived at the camp shouting about Trolls. Then those finally out of the sacks help those on the spit. Thorin and Gandalf speak for a moment while the Company situates themselves. 

    After they speak, they take Bofur, Gloin, Nori, and Dwalin to a cave that Gandalf called a Troll Hoard. Gandalf is the last to exit the cave and he approaches Bilbo with a small blade in his hands. “Bilbo, this is about your size,” he says, handing it over. Bilbo looks at the sheathed sword. It looked like almost a proper sword in her hands, but it looked more like a large dagger in Gandalf’s.

    “I can’t take this.” she says, trying to give it back.

    “The blade is of Elvish make,” Gandalf informs, “Which means it will glow blue when Orcs or Goblins are nearby.”

    Bilbo glances around at the Company, as if her next statement was a secret of some sort. “I have never used a sword in my life.” She whispers.

    “And I hope you never have to,” Gandalf admits, “But if you do, remember this: true courage is knowing not when to take a life, but when to spare one.”

    The trees in the distance rustle but the noises are moving closer, quickly. The Company quickly arms themselves readying for an attack. A voice cries out was it moves into the clearing “Thieves! Fire! Murder!” A sled pulled by large rabbits halts in the middle of the small clearing, driven by a mad-looking old man.

    “Radagast!” Gandalf cries out in familiarity, sheathing his sword, “Radagast the Brown!” The Grey Wizard approaches the Brown one and stands beside him. “What on Arda are you doing here?”

    “I was looking for you, Gandalf,” the other Wizard replies, “Something’s wrong, something’s  _ terribly _ wrong.”

    Gandalf nods slowly, “Yes?”

    Radagast inhales sharply, ready to speak, but doesn’t reply. He makes the noise as if he’s remembered what he’s about to say a few times. “Just give me a minute,” he says. And shortly after, he lets out a whine. “Oh, I had the thought, and now I’ve lost it. It was right there! On the tip of my tongue!” A realization dawns on him and his words become slurred. “Oh! It’s not a thought at all! It’s a silly old-” Gandalf removes the insect from Radagast’s mouth and drops it into his hand- “Stick insect.” Bilbo rears back with a look of disgust and glances at her children, who shrug at her in response.

    Gandalf insists that the Company leave the two Wizards alone while they speak. So, the Dwarves stand watch and recount what bizarre occurrence just happened to them.

    Howling distracts them, and Bilbo grabs onto Isengrim’s sleeve. “Was that a wolf?” she asks, “Are there wolves out here?”

    “Wolves?” Bofur repeats, “No, that is not a wolf.” Growling and a loud snap from behind them, causes them to cry out and turn around. The beast leaps forward, attacking Dori and knocking her down. Thorin kills the beast with his new Elvish sword and the one about to attack him from behind is shot by one of Kili’s arrows, the Dwalin crushes its skull with his Warhammer.

    “Warg scouts!” Thorin announces, pulling his sword from the creature, “Which means an Orc Pack is not far behind!”

    “Orc Pack?” Bilbo repeats.

    “Who did you tell about your quest, beyond your kin,” Gandalf questions.

    “No one,” Thorin answers

    “Who did you tell?!” The Wizard demands.

    “No one, I swear!” The Dwarf King insists, “What in Durin’s name is going on?”

    “You’re being hunted.” 

    “We have to get out of here,” Dwalin says.

    “We can’t!” Ori cries, running toward them, “We’ve no ponies! They bolted!”

    “I’ll draw them off,” Radagast declares, “I’ll take them South down the Bruinen while you head North and East. I just need something that smells like you.”

    “These are Gundabad Wargs,” Gandalf says, “They will outrun you!”

    Radagast gives him a smug smile. “These are Rhosgobel rabbits, I’d like to see them try.”

    Gandalf turns to Thorin and tells him to give Radagast a piece of his clothing, something that he’s been wearing for a while, and that it would be returned when they got to safety. Thorin shrugs off his overcoat and hands it to the Brown Wizard. He drapes it over his sled and takes off.

    “We need to run,” Gandalf announces, and so they do. They run North, further into the forest, until the sun was lost and the howls were quiet.

    They slept, or tried to, that night, huddled together under some trees. Bilbo eventually passed out on Bofur’s shoulder due to exhaustion, he’d become one of her closer friends in this company, so she tended to stay close to him when they settled down. This is also why she asked him to accompany her to the small stream they passed so that she could wash the troll snot from her clothes; Gandalf insisted that the Company always leave in pairs and never go anywhere alone.

    She has him carry her pack as they set off to find the stream. “I don’t think I’ve ever washed my clothes in a stream before,” she comments, before making a noise as if she’s remembered something, “That’s a lie, I have. Thorin and I went camping in the fourth or fifth year he came to the Shire. We set off into the woods, and were completely lost five minutes into walking. Don’t ask me how, I’m not sure. But we were supposed to cross this little shallow stream, the water came up to a little above my ankles, but still, I slipped.” Bofur burst into laughter. “It’s not funny! The entire back side of my trousers were wet and caked with mud. I was beyond cross with him at that point and told him to find us a bigger stream so I could wash my clothes. He was lucky they were brown trousers, so they weren’t stained too obviously.”

    Bofur chuckles, “You have so many pleasant memories with our King, why do you hate him so much?”

    “I’ve told you already, I don’t  _ hate _ him,” Bilbo replies, “If I’m being honest, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to hate him, though I want to. I want to hate him because he left us. He left back to Ered Luin for the Fall like he always did, and when Spring came the next year he didn’t show. I sent him letters too, it’s not like I didn’t try and make contact. He as the first person I told when I found out I was pregnant. I got no response, not to that letter nor to any of the letters I sent him before or after the fact. I just figured he didn’t want anything to do with me or my children.” They finally reach the stream and Bilbo takes her pack. “Twenty-five years, Bofur. You’d think that he’d visit at least once in those twenty-five years. But no, he didn’t want me, he didn’t want them, he just wanted to have fun. I was the stupid, naive girl that he thought he could manipulate and trick me into thinking I was in love, then once he made a mistake, he left, never to be seen again.”

    Bofur is silent for a moment, taking in the information. “You’ve been through a lot, haven’t you?” Bilbo nods, and pulls the brush from her pack. “What’s that?”

    “Oh? It’s a brush, not for hair though, it’s for scrubbing away stains and dirt on clothing.” She explains, and holds it out to him. “Hold this for me, won’t you?”

    He nods and takes the brush, running his hand over the thick, harsh bristles, then sits down on a stone by the stream. When he looks back up, Bilbo is undressed down to her brassier and underwear, and Bofur’s face turns red in a record time.

    Bilbo sees his face and realization dawns on her, “Is this bothering you? I can put something on if I’m making you uncomfortable.”

    Bofur shakes his head, not trusting his voice at the moment and keeps his gaze locked on Bilbo’s face. She shrugs and turns around and Bofur glances down at her behind, then barks out a laugh. “So they do cover up!” he laughs.

    Bilbo looks at him, confused, before looking over her shoulder at her bum. She rolls her eyes, but a small smile makes Bofur know she’s almost okay with his jokes now, and grabs her coat and the brush, before getting down to scrub them clean.

    When each garment is scrubbed clean, Bilbo asks Bofur to hang them up to dry, and he does as he’s told. And once they’re all clean and hanging up, Bilbo turns to Bofur. “I think that’s everything,” she tells the Dwarrow.

    “Not everything,” Bofur responds, “Your face.”

    “Oh, right!” She fills her hands with water and scrubs at her face to remove the dried Troll snot. The third handful of water is when Bofur notices it running down her neck and into the space between her breasts. His blush flares up again and he looks away, scratching at his neck. “Am I okay now?”

    He looks down at her clean face and nods, “All good.”

    “Thank goodness. I almost forgot about my face, that would’ve been embarrassing.” she looks up at her hanging clothing, “Now all we have to do is wait for them to dry.”

    “Don’t you have an extra set of clothing?” Bofur asks, “Why don’t you just put that on?”

    “I don’t want to get it dirty before we get to Rivendell,” she says, taking a seat beside Bofur on the stone, “I want to take a proper bath and then put that on.”

    Bofur laughs, “You’ll be waiting a long time, then. I don’t think we’re going to Rivendell.”

    Bilbo rolls her eyes, “We’re going to Rivendell, haven’t you noticed?”

    “Noticed what?”

    “Gandalf’s been leading us for the past few weeks,” she says, “He’s leading us to Rivendell because he knows Thorin doesn’t want to go there. We need their help, and Thorin doesn’t want to admit that.”

    “You really are observant, ain’t ya,” Bofur comments.

    “My mother taught me,” Bilbo informs, “She was always telling me not to look, but to observe. You can get a lot more information if you do it right.”

    “Can you do it right now?”

    “Course I can,” Bilbo says, “For example, you.”

    “Me? You’re gonna deduce me?”

    “Yes, I am. If I just look at you, you seem casual, comfortable. But, you’re not. If I look a little closer, I can tell that your very uncomfortable with the fact that I’m almost naked. You’re trying to look casual and relaxed, but your trying too hard to look so; so you just look uncomfortable, the thing you were trying not to look like in the right place.”

    “You’re good,” Bofur comments.

    “You’re also trying too hard not to look anywhere but my face,” Bilbo says, linking her fingers over her stomach and leaning back onto the rock she was sitting against, a sly smile on her face. “Not that I’d mind if you looked elsewhere, I haven’t had anyone  _ look _ at me in years. I like to think I’ve got a nice figure, my hips are a little wide, but I also have given birth.” Bilbo laughs loudly when she sees Bofur’s not even looking at her anymore. “I’m sorry, Bofur, I was just teasing you. I didn’t think I’d make you that uncomfortable.” She stands up to check her clothing. She rubs the fabric between her fingers, testing the dryness. “They seem dry enough,” she says, shrugging. She puts her clothing back on and looks back at Bofur. “Are you ready to go back to camp?”

    He nods silently, making Bilbo laugh and they make their way back to the Company. “Where’ve you been?” Thorin asks immediately after they enter camp.

    “I needed to wash my clothes, and Gandalf said not to go anywhere alone,” Bilbo responds, “I’m sure that you could be able to walk around with Troll snot on your clothing and face and not be bothered by it, but I can’t. I wanted to be clean.”

    “You should have told someone before you left,” Thorin says.

    “I did,” Bilbo retorts, “I told Gandalf.”

    The Wizard jerks out of whatever blank state he was in at the sound of his name. “What?” he asks.

    “I was tell Thorin that I told you that Bofur and I were leaving to go wash my clothing before we left.”

    “Oh, yes.” Gandalf confirms, “They did that.”

    Thorin frowns at the Wizard, “When are we leaving?” he asks.

    “After breakfast, please,” Bofur says, “I’m starved.”

    “You’re starved?” Bilbo repeats, “I’m certain that I’ve lost at least ten pounds since the start of our journey.” She rubs her stomach, still pudgy but not as much as it used to be.

    “That much?” Bofur asks, gently taking hold of her elbow, “Are you okay?”

    “I’ll be fine,” Bilbo replies, “Hobbits just have high metabolisms, that’s why we eat so much so often.”

    “Bombur!” Thorin calls out, “Put together some breakfast.” The large Dwarf nods and goes about making breakfast with what they had left over, it isn’t much, considering they had gone through most of their food stuffs and their ponies are now gone. They eat their small breakfast and head out, Gandalf leading them. Over breakfast, Gandalf and Thorin discussed their next move, and Thorin, though he didn’t want to, agreed to go to Rivendell.

    Gandalf takes them through the forest, and out into an open valley with large stone outcrops, telling them he was taking them to the hidden pass to Rivendell. The company follows Gandalf through this eerily quiet clearing and he looks around at each outcrop, trying to find the correct one. And that’s when they heard it, a snarl. Gandalf closes his eyes in frustration. Not all the Orcs followed Radagast, or they did and they came back. They move quickly and quietly, trying to stay as far away from the Orcs as possible. They pause for a moment, hiding behind a large boulder; and they hear snarling and snuffling coming from the top of the boulder.

    Thorin looks at Kili and nods. The young Dwarrow takes a deep breath and pulls an arrow from his quiver. He sets it and draws back the string before letting it fly, embedding itself in the Warg’s shoulder. He shoots another making the Warg and it’s rider tumble off the rock. They kill them both as quickly as they can, but the wails and screams that they made while they were being killed attracted the other Orcs and Wargs.

    Gandalf yells at them to run, and they listen. He leads them through the valley around stones and over hills, and away from the Orcs. Unfortunately, they become surrounded, and more so, Gandalf seems to have disappeared. Kili and Bella shoot at the Orcs with their arrows and the others hold their weapons and stand their ground while they close in.

    “Where’s Gandalf?” Dori cries, whipping around and searching for the Wizard.

    “He’s abandoned us!” Dwalin declares.

    The Orc continue to close in on them and the Company slowly moves back. Suddenly, Gandalf appears in the outcrop that they were being backed up against, calling after them. One by one they jump into the hole, sliding down into the hidden pass. 

    They pause when they hear a blaring horn in the distance, followed by hoofbeats and the shrieks of dying Orcs. They are startled when one of the dead Orcs tumbles into the hole, and they hold their weapons to it, in case it wasn’t dead. Thorin yanks the broken arrow out of the Orc to inspect it, he scowls and announces it belongs to Elves. The hoofbeats fade as the Elves leave and Dwalin goes to investigate the tunnel. “I cannot see where the pathway leads!” he announces, “Do we follow it or no?” 

    “Follow it of course!” Bofur replies and starts moving down the tunnel.

    “I think that would be wise,” Gandalf comments. So the Company moves through the seemingly endless tunnel. As they get closer, the Bagginses can feel the changes in the air around them. The Twins begins speaking animatedly in Elvish and Bilbo is just confused by the changes.

    “Gandalf?” She asks, “Are we where I think we are?”

    “You can feel it?”

    “Yes, it feels like… well, like magic.”

    “That’s exactly what it is,” Gandalf tells her, “A very powerful magic.”

    Dwalin announces what seems to be the end of the tunnel and the Company seems to want to move faster down their path. The tunnel ends and they step out onto the cliff to look over the Elven city. Gandalf pauses them here and tell them his plan of how they are going to handle their time in Rivendell. He then leads them down from the cliff to the entrance of the city. They cross the thin bridge to a set of stairs, where two armoured Elves stood at the top of the first landing. Bilbo looks around, taking in the Elvish architecture. She’d never seen Rivendell herself, she only had stories of what her mother and her children told her about it. They told her it was beautiful, but hearing about it doesn’t even begin to compare to seeing it in person.

    “ _ Mithrandir _ ,” a voice calls from the stairs. They all turn, startled by the voice. An Elf is striding down the stairs and Gandalf smiles.

    “Lindir,” the Wizard greets.

    Bilbo doesn’t bother listening to their conversation, she just keeping looking at the city. She’s startled when Bofur grab her coat and shoves her into the circle of Dwarves. The horses approach quickly and circle the Dwarves almost intimidating. The Elf on the only dark horse greets Gandalf.

    “Lord Elrond” Gandalf responds, “ _ Mellon nin. Where have you been? _ ”

    Bilbo decides it might be useful to listen to them, so she doesn’t let herself become distracted while they speak. Her mother began to teach her Elvish when she was a girl, but her children continued her lessons and she became more familiar with the language, almost becoming fluent. “ _ We’ve been hunting a pack of Orcs that came up from the South. _ ” Elrond answers, “ _ We slew a number near the Hidden Pass. _ ” Elrond dismounts his horse and hugs Gandalf; he lifts up the Orcish sword and continues speaking, this time in Westron. “Strange for Orcs to come so close to our borders. Something, or  _ someone _ , has drawn them near.” He passes the sword to Lindir who looked at it with disgust.

    “That  _ may _ have been us,” Gandalf admits, gesturing to the Company. Bella and Isengrim grab their mother’s arms and pull her forward out of the circle and in front of Gandalf.

    Elrond smiles at the twins. “We were not expecting you to return so soon.”

    “Well, there have been a few unexpected things that happened to us in these past few months,” Bella informs.

    “But, we are glad to be back nonetheless,” Isengrim adds.

    “And we are glad to have you,” Elrond replies. He looks at the mother who stands between them, “You must be the Bilbo Baggins, I’ve heard a lot about you.”

    “Good things, I should hope,” Bilbo says nervously.

    The Elf just smiles at her, then moves his gaze to Thorin. “Welcome Thorin, son of Thrain.”

    “I do not believe we have met,” Thorin replies.

    “You have your grandfather’s bearings,” Elrond explains, “I knew Thror when he ruled under the Mountain.”

    “Indeed?” Thorin asks, quite disrespectfully, “He made no mention of you.”

    Elrond looks at Thorin for a long time before he speaks. He speaks in his mother language, sounding intimidating and threatening, but the message was actually quite friendly. Gloin, of course, accuses the Elf of insulting them, but Gandalf quickly translates the message as Elrond offering them dinner. The Dwarves mutter a discussion before telling them to lead on.

    The Elves give them rooms, ten rooms on the same long hallway. The families share rooms, and Gandalf, Bella, Isengrim, Thorin, and Bilbo each get their own rooms. They are told that they will be retrieved when dinner is ready, and that they should take this time to bathe and prepare themselves for dinner. Bilbo learns just how cold the water Elves use to take baths is. Her children told her that Elves ‘don’t believe in hot water’ and use the natural waterfalls to fill their baths, which means the water is usually freezing.

    Bilbo’s skin prickles when she steps into the water, she is grateful that the bath has stairs that go around the side of the tub, so she can sit on the stairs and take a bath without drowning. She sits down on the stair that keeps her head above the water, but submerges most of her body. She cleans herself thoroughly before draining the bath and going to get dressed. She wears her second outfit, a white blouse, black weskit, grey trousers, and a deep blue coat. The outfit is unusual for Bilbo, usually her outfits contain bright colors like reds, greens, and yellows; but this outfit was given to her by her children for their birthday. 

    A knock on her door startles her when she starts combing out her hair. “Come in!” The door opens and Bofur pokes his head inside.

    “Hello!” he greets, “New outfit?” Bilbo nods. “It’s nice.”

    “Well it’s not new-new. The twins got it for me for their birthday a year ago.”

    “For  _ their _ birthday?”

    Bilbo nods, “Hobbits give gifts on their birthdays, not to everyone, just to close family and neighbors. The twins got me this.” She smooths down the front of her coat, “They told me I needed more dark colors in my wardrobe. I don’t wear it very often, because of the fact that it’s a weskit and trousers, and that’s not really a usual outfit of mine. I usually only wear trousers to garden in.”

    Bofur nods, “Anyway, we’ve been called to dinner.” He jabs his thumb over his shoulder.

    “Oh, okay.” Bilbo sets down her comb and follows him out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> Mithrandir - 'Grey Wanderer', the Elves' name for Gandalf  
> Mellon nin - 'My friend'
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter, I know a lot of it was stupid and probably not as funny as I thought it was when I wrote it. But I think it's cute and I'm enjoying the friendship that is blossoming between Bilbo and Bofur.  
> But anyway, you can follow me on tumblr if you wish @ blubuddi974


	4. The Last Homely House

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, we've arrived in Rivendell. You'll notice I've changed the seating arrangements of their first meal in the Elven city, because it made no sense! Literally no reason why they should be seated the way they were, and don't even get me started on the sleeping arrangements at Beorn's.  
> But! My dabbling with Boffins continues into this chapter, and how I managed to have the first naughty bits of this fic be written about Boffins and not Bagginshield, I'll never know. But it's nothing terrible, so rating's not changing.

    The Company follows the Elf that came to escort them to dinner. They are lead to an outside dining area where a tall table and two short tables were presented. The tables are all set, but there’s not food on them yet. Bofur pulls Bilbo along to the second table and sits her down before taking the chair opposite of her. The rest of the Company sits down at the tables, generally sticking with their families. Dwalin sits beside Bilbo and Kili across from him, then Fili obviously sits beside her brother. Bella and Isengrim also sit at the second table, sitting at the ends with Isengrim to Bilbo’s left and Bella left of Fili. Once everyone is seated, the Elves bring out their meal.

    The Twins burst into laughter when the many bowls and platters are placed on the table. “Where’s the meat?” Dwalin asks, lifting the contents of the bowl out of it.

    “I think you have your _ oh so polite _ King to thank for this,” Isengrim says, “If he’d been a little more respectful towards Lord Elrond, you might have a little bit of game with your meal. But since he didn’t want to be nice, Lord Elrond wasn’t nice either.”

    “Perhaps if he changes his attitude,” Bella continues, “Lord Elrond might consider including some meat into your meals.”

    “That’s not to say that Elves usually have meat with their meals,” Isengrim points out, “Usually meat is saved for special occasions, such as holidays or celebrations.”

    “And I’m not entirely sure having thirteen  _ rude _ Dwarves show up at your doorstep is validated for a celebration.” Bella grins as she stabs at the assortment of baked vegetables on her plate with her fork. Dwalin glances around at the dining area, trying to locate the Dwarf King so he could ‘knock some sense into the idiot.’ as he so gently put it.

    Bilbo snorts indelicately at his statement as she’s pouring herself a glass of wine. She glances up from her meal and sees Kili looking in the direction of the Harpist who was seated behind their table. She sees him wink at her and then look away, his gaze settling on Dwalin.

    “Can’t say I fancy Elf maids, myself,” The young prince declares, “Too thin. They’re all high cheekbones and creamy skin.” he glances up at the Elf walking behind him with another instrument. “Not enough facial hair for me,” he continues, “Although, that one there’s not bad.” he looks up at the Elf and Dwalin looks to his left, giving Bilbo a look that says ‘do you want to tell him or should I?’ Bilbo returns his look with one that tells him to go for it.

    Dwalin turns back to look at Kili, “That’s not an Elf maid.” Kili pauses and looks at Dwalin with a distressed expression, to which the other Dwarf replies with a wink. The rest of the table looks up at the male Elf and begin to laugh at the young Dwarrow. Kili attempts to defend himself, saying that he hasn’t seen that many Elves in his lifetime and that no one’s ever told him how to tell the difference. 

    Bilbo chuckles and sips at her wine, and tunes into Elrond’s conversation with Gandalf and Thorin. “This is  _ Orcrist _ ,” she hears the Elf say, “The Goblin Cleaver, a famous blade, forged by the High Elves of the West, my kin. May it serve you well.” She glances over her shoulder to see Elrond hand the sword over to Thorin and pick up and unsheath Gandalf’s sword. “This is  _ Glamdring _ , the Foehammer. Sword of the King of Gondolin.”

    She stops listening there, and pulls her own sword from its sheath to look at it. “I wouldn’t bother, lass,” Dwalin’s gruff voice comments from her right, “Swords are named for the great deeds they do in war.” The way he says this is almost like he’s reciting it, like he’s heard someone, most likely his brother, say it multiple times. 

    “What are you saying?” the Hobbit asks, “That my sword hasn’t seen battle?”

    Dwalin chortles, “Not sure it even is a sword, more like a glorified letter opener.”

    Bilbo frowns at her blade and puts it away, turning back to her meal. She hears Nori complain about the music, saying it sounded like funeral music. She frowns, thinking that this was much too pleasant to be for a funeral. She, of course, was not expecting Bofur to stand from his seat, step onto the pedestal that sat in between the two tables, and start singing. She’d heard the song a few times before on their travels, so she is familiar with it. She is also familiar with the fact that Dwarves like to throw their food when they sing, so it’s not a surprise when it happens. The Dwarves are almost amazed at how well their Hobbit had gotten at dodging the food being tossed in all directions and she leaves the dining area without a single crumb on her clothing.

    Bilbo finds that she did not have much time to explore Rivendell as the sun was already beginning to set when she left dinner, and she was growing tired. As she was making her way back to where her rooms was, she passes Elrond and the Elf from before, Lindir.

    “Miss Baggins,” Elrond greets.

    Bilbo bows her head, “Lord Elrond,”

    “I had some things put in your room,” he says, “Some things of your mother’s.”

    Bilbo pauses. “Thank you,” she says, finally, and moves more quickly to her room. She opens the door to find her room almost untouched. On the desk sat a note, telling of her what had been put into her room. Next to the note there was a wooden box with floral details carved and painted on it. She opens it and finds two of her mother’s hairpins. They were one of her favorite pairs, each had a peony on the end. Bilbo remembers her mother putting these hairpins in her hair almost every day when she was a child. She had taken them with her on her last trip to Rivendell and accidentally left them. Bilbo almost puts them into her hair, but she stops and places them back into the box. 

    She moves to the wardrobe in the corner and pulls the doors open. Three things hang in the closet, a nightgown, a dressing gown, and an outfit. They’re all familiar, as they used to be owned by her mother. She takes the nightgown and drapes it over the bed before removing her clothing and putting it on. It’s a bit tight, hugging Bilbo’s curves, but it fits better than it would if she’d put it on at the beginning of the journey. Belladonna was much thinner than Bilbo is now, most Tooks are quite thin while the Bagginses are more  _ voluptuous _ . Bilbo is also taller than her mother, which brought the hem of the nightgown to almost above her knees. Bilbo stands at four feet and two inches and she has since she turned forty. Her mother, when she was alive, stood at three feet and nine inches. Adult female Hobbits usually stand anywhere from three feet and seven inches to three feet and eleven inches, while the adult male Hobbits usually stand at around three feet and ten inches to four feet and two inches. But of course, there are some who are taller and shorter than usual, and Bilbo is obviously one of them.

    The dressing gown is shorter, ending at about mid thigh and with both of them on and her hair down, she looks so much like her mother. She and her mother shared the same hair and eye color, and her skin was more toward the lighter side, though she tanned every summer from the constant time spending outside. If she looked close enough at her face, she could see more of her mother in her eye shape and lips. She shakes her head and looks away from the mirror, and as she starts to remove the dressing gown, there’s a knock at her door. She sighs and ties the gown shut before going to answer the door.

    “What do you want?” She asks the Wizard.

    “I’d like for you to join us to consult Lord Elrond about the map,” He answers

    “Why?”

    “Because I think it would be good for you.”

    “The last time you said that to me, you dropped thirteen Dwarves on my doorstep and convinced me to go on this exhausting quest.”

    “Will you come?”

    “Yes, just let me get dressed.” She shuts the door and removes her nightgown and puts her clothes back on; then she leaves her room and follows Gandalf through the halls. They meet with Thorin and Balin at the end of the ‘T’ shaped hall. The Dwarf King frowns when he sees Bilbo and looks at Gandalf for an answer. The Wizard doesn’t speak and just ushers them through Elrond’s Halls to meet with the Elf Lord.

    Thorin scowls when Gandalf tells him to give the map to Lord Elrond. “Our business is no concern of Elves,” He states, with his arms folded across his chest.

    Gandalf sighs in frustration. “For Goodness sake, Thorin. Show him the map.”

    “It is the legacy of my people,” Thorin remarks, “It’s mine to protect, as are its secrets.”

    “Save me from the stubbornness of Dwarves,” Gandalf breathes. Bilbo silently agrees, knowing just as well how stubborn the Dwarf King can be. “Your pride will be your downfall. You stand here in the presence of one of the few in Middle Earth who can read that map. Show it to Lord Elrond!”

    Bilbo stands awkwardly beside Gandalf, waiting for the chaos to begin. But it doesn’t. Thorin reaches into his coat, albeit reluctantly and with a grimace on his face, and goes to hand the map over. Balin, shocked at the King’s decision, attempts to stop him, but the other Dwarf just pushes his arm aside and gives the map to the Elf. Elrond opens the map to view the contents, and looks back at the Dwarf. “Erebor?” he asks, “What is your interest in this map?”

    Thorin opens his mouth to answer but is beaten to it by the Wizard. “It’s mainly academic. As you know, this sort of Artifact sometimes contains hidden text.” The Wizard shares a look with the Dwarf King, one that Bilbo cannot see in the dim light, and the Wizard continues speaking. “You still read ancient Dwarvish, do you not?” he queries to the Elf.

    Elrond doesn’t pay too much attention to the Wizard but focuses on the map. He holds the parchment up into the moonlight filtering in through the windows. “ _ Cirth Ithil _ ”

    “Moon Runes?” Bilbo repeats, “What are those?”

    “Moon Runes were invented by the Dwarves and they are written with special silver pens,” Elrond begins to explain, “They cannot be seen in ordinary light. They can only be read when the moonlight shines behind them. But there is a more secretive way to them as well, which seems to be the way these were written. These runes can only be read by the light of the moon of the same shape and season on which the day they were written.”

    “Can you read them?” Thorin asks, hope tainting his voice.

    “No, unfortunately.” Thorin sighs, defeated. “Not today, at least.” The Dwarf King looks up at the Elf, the flame in his chest blazing again. “These runes were written on a Midsummer’s Eve by the light of a crescent moon, nearly two hundred years ago. It seems you were meant to come to Rivendell. Fate is with you, Thorin Oakenshield. This same moon will shine on us in just fourteen days time.”

 

    She spends the next few days exploring the Elven city, walking through the palace and eventually making her way to the residential and business districts of the city, where the rest of Rivendell’s Elves live. She walks slowly with her hands clasped behind her back, drinking in the city. The Elves don’t seem bothered by her, and the ones who see her smile, and she responds with the same. She’s actually surprised at how many children she sees, most of them are older children, but there are the occasional few that are younger. A group of younger children run passed her, shrieking and giggling. She smiles at them and keeps moving.

    It’s only when those small children come back that she frowns. One of the two older boys that were loitering about one of the houses had snatched one of the younger girls’ doll. The boys held the doll up over their heads where the girl couldn’t reach, and she looked to be on the verge of tears. It takes Bilbo back to when she was about nine and the Grubb’s two oldest boys had taken the ragdoll her mother made her. “ _ Excuse me _ !” Bilbo calls to the boys in their language, making them all look at her. She makes her way over to them and looks at the boys with a deep frown. “ _ Haven’t your parents taught you any manners _ ?” She gives them a pointed look and they nod, looking down. “ _ And I’m sure they taught you shouldn’t take things that aren’t yours _ ?” They nod again, looking more guilty. “ _ Hand it over _ ,” Bilbo says, holding her hand out. They hand the doll over to the Hobbit and they run off. Bilbo smiles at the girl and gives her doll back, “ _ Here you are, dear _ .” The little girl smiles and hugs the doll, then thanks Bilbo before running along toward her group of friends.

    Bilbo moves along and goes through the markets to make her way back to the palace. She decides that was a mistake about halfway through the market. She’s been nearly trampled twice already, so now she just want to get out as quickly as possible. She gets out of the market after a third time of being almost trampled and goes back to the palace the same way she left.

    “You must be Bilbo Baggins!” The voice startles Bilbo as she enters the palace. She looks to her right where the voice came from and sees two dark-haired, twin Elves.

    “You must be Elladan and Elrohir, Lord Elrond’s boys,” Bilbo replies, “Now, who is who?”

    The one in the green introduces himself as Elladan, and the one in blue as Elrohir.

    “Ellie, Hiro!” a small voice shouts from down the hall, “Where’d you go?”

    “Down here Essie!” Elrohir replies. A small human boy enters the hall and when he sees them, he grins and runs down the hall. 

    “This is Estel,” Elladan introduces, placing a hand on the boy’s shoulder.

    “So you’re Estel, I’ve heard many great things about you,” Bilbo says with a smile. The boy stands almost a head taller than the Hobbit and seems pretty proud to be taller than someone in Rivendell. “I should be heading in, I got a bit hungry while I was exploring.”

    They nod, “We should be going as well,” Elladan says, “Estel still has lessons that he should be having.” Bilbo smiles at them and goes in the direction she remembers the kitchens being.

    As is was not yet time for lunch, the Elves give Bilbo a bread pocket full of a meat stew. She thanks them for the snack and eats her pocket as she walks out of the kitchen and through the halls to the courtyard. She sees that both her children and Dwalin and Thorin were sparring in the yard. She chooses to watch her children instead of the Dwarves, since neither of them had shirts on. She sits in the grass and munches on her bread pocket. She compares the fighting styles of the two groups. Bella and Isengrim made it look like a dance; their movements look more fluid than Dwalin and Thorin. The Dwarves’ movements are more sharp and abrupt, there is some fluidity to them, but they are more choppy. Bofur plops down beside her. “Enjoying the show?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows

    “No, actually,” Bilbo retorts, “I’m enjoying my bread pocket that the kitchens gave me.” 

    “What’s in it?”

    Bilbo shrugs, “Some sort of meat stew,” she answers, then takes a bite.

    “What? That’s not fair!” Bofur says, “We’ve been getting nothing but fruits and vegetables since we came here!”

    Bilbo snorts, “Maybe the Elves just like me,” Bilbo replies, “Have any of you said anything to Thorin about being more polite?”

    “I think Dwalin has, but I think the King’s just making us suffer,” Bofur grumbles

    “Why?”

    “Because we’ve been annoying,” the hatted Dwarf says with a laugh, “And he actually likes vegetables, so he doesn’t mind. On the contrary, I think Ori’s gonna die. He won’t eat anything he deems as ‘green food.’” Bofur makes quotation marks with his fingers. “And half of what he won’t eat isn’t even green.”

    Bilbo laughs, “That reminds me of the twins when they were young,” she begins, “They did not want to eat any vegetables. They were fine with fruits, but vegetables were out of the question. So I brought out my mother’s old saying, she used to tell me this all the time.” Bilbo clears her throat before she recites the saying. “Eating greens is a special treat, my dear. It makes pointy ears to use to hear, and great big feet to walk far or near. And when your done dessert is here.”

    Bofur bursts into laughter, “That’s good!” he manages between his laughs. Bilbo smiles as she watches him laugh for the next few minutes before he composes himself. “Though, I’m sure that you steer Ori right off the vegetable wagon if you told him that,” the Dwarrow admits, “I don’t think he wants pointy ears or big feet. Did it work on them?”

    “Absolutely not,” Bilbo says and Bofur laughs again. “They would not eat any vegetables if they were just plain vegetables. If I mixed them into a pie or a stew or something where they didn’t look like vegetables, they would eat them. But if they looked like vegetables they would go untouched. It eventually stopped after I told them the could have dessert until I watched them eat every bite of those vegetables.”

    Bofur chuckles, “And now they can’t get enough.”

    Bilbo smiles mischievously, “Between you and I,” she whispers “I did the same to Thorin.”

    Bofur snorts. “You refused him dessert until he ate his full meal?”

    Bilbo nods, “He was so angry at me. He ate those vegetables with a look of absolute hatred. I don’t know when it changed, but I remember him suddenly wanting more vegetables with dinner. There was a night where I remember we didn’t have meat in the entire meal.” The two friends laugh together and Bilbo holds her bread pocket in Bofur’s direction.

    He looks down at it, “What are you doing?”

    “I’m offering you a bite,” she says, “If you want it, you should take it now, otherwise I’m going to eat the whole thing and you’ll have to wait an unknown amount of time for you get to eat meat again.”

    “I shouldn’t,” Bofur says. Bilbo shrugs, taking another large bite of the slowly disappearing pocket. “I shouldn’t, but I’m going to.” He takes the pocket and takes a bite of it, moaning loudly at the taste. Bilbo laughs and reaches for her snack to take it back, but Bofur moves it out of her reach.

    “Bofur! Give me it!”

    “You made one big mistake when you gave me this!” he continues to move it away from her, and she continues to try and take it. Very soon, Bofur is on his back and Bilbo is straddling his chest, happily munching on what was left of her bread pocket. “Now Bilbo, if you were interested in me, you should’ve just said so,” The Dwarf teases.

    Bilbo frowns. “You did this on purpose.”

    “Yes, I did,” Bofur says with a smug grin.

    “And I suppose you’re proud of yourself?”

    “I am.” Bilbo leans back to rest against Bofur’s knees and finishes off her bread pocket, sucking off whatever was left on her fingers. This makes Bofur blush brightly, and his blush only darkens when Bilbo leans forward and gets close to his face. “I suppose you’re proud of yourself?” Bofur mutters.

    “I am.” Bilbo snatches Bofur’s hat off his head and leaps to her feet, dashing away. It takes him a moment before he realizes what happened, which gives Bilbo the advantage that she could seem to just disappear.

    He finally finds her in the gardens. She’s sitting on the bench just outside of it with his hat placed on her head, deep in thought and chewing on the nail of her thumb. He takes the hat back and puts it on his head and Bilbo laughs. “So you’ve finally found me!”

    “Yes, I also came to tell you lunch is supposed to be ready soon.”

    “Lovely, I was starting to get hungry.”

 

    It’s their fifth day in Rivendell when Bilbo decided to see if her mother’s outfit she left in Rivendell would fit. It seems to fit well enough until Bilbo gets to the bodice. She frowns when she sees that it’s a back lace rather than a front lace. She’s always had trouble with these, but her mother could do them up no problem. She had no clue how she did it without help, but she did and Bilbo never could. She frowns and looks at the outfit without the bodice, but it just didn’t look right. So, she sets it down and goes to the door, peeking out to see if there was anyone in the hall to help her. Dori happened to be walking in the direction of Bilbo’s room and the waves the Dam over. “Dori, you know how to lace a corset, right?”

    Dori nods and enters the room, and Bilbo lets her fit her into the bodice. “Where did you get this?” Dori asks.

    “It was my mother’s. She spent some time in Rivendell and happened to leave this behind.” She touches the embroidery on the front of the bodice, peonies. She tilts her head and goes over to the desk. She opens the box and pulls out the hair pins, then goes over to the mirror and puts them in her hair, pinning back her honey curls just the way her mother used to. Dori comes up beside her, resting her hand on Bilbo’s upper back.

    “You look beautiful, Bilbo.”

    “Thank you.” Bilbo sniffles and wipes at her teary eyes. “I’m just being silly.”

    “Nonsense,” Dori says, “I’m the spitting image of my mother. If you ever wanted to know what my mother looked like, all you had to do was look at me. After she died, I didn’t want to look at myself because all I would see was her. Sometimes when I look in the mirror, I remember how I felt back then.”

    “People always told me I was the perfect mixture of my parents, but they always said I looked more like the other. My Dad would always point out how much I looked my mother, but Mum would say I was like a second edition of my father. But I think our neighbors were right. When I look at myself I always see so much of both of them. I shared my hair and eyes with my mother, but I had my Dad’s nose and ears.”

    They stand there for a moment, staring into the mirror before a knock startles them and they giggle. “We must be wanted for breakfast,” Dori concludes.

    She was correct, and they were taken down to the dining area for breakfast. The Company actually rejoiced when their breakfast was brought to them because it seemed that Elrond had lifted their meat ban for the Dwarves. They enjoyed their breakfast and, for once, didn’t toss anything at each other. 

    After breakfast, Bilbo takes to wandering again. Today, she spends more time in the Library. She’d been there briefly a few nights ago, but she wants to take some time to read a few things. She sits at a table with a pot of tea and a stack of books, killing time. She’s greeted by Ori about two books into her visit. “Hello, Ori,” she says, “What brings you here?”

    “I like the quiet,” he replies, taking a seat across from the Hobbit.

    “Something we have in common then,” Bilbo says with a laugh.

    “What are you reading?”

    “Just a bit of history books. It’s been my favorite subject for years.”

    “I’m the same. I love learning about history.”

    Bilbo chuckles. “I found a book about Hobbits and I wanted to see how well we’ve been recorded by the Elves.”

    “How is it going?”

    “Not very well,” she laughs, “It seems that we’re not very present in history. I understand why though, we don’t do much. We just sort of stay hidden in our Hobbit holes away from the other races, we don’t cause any trouble, and trouble never seems to want to find us.” She pauses, thinking for a moment. “Although, there was a time when it did. Back in 1147 of the Shire Reckoning, 2747 of the Third Age, Goblins had come down from Mount Gram and into North Farthing. Now, back then, Hobbits were much more experienced with weaponry than we are now. Though most of us do know how to kill a person with gardening tools.” Ori looks shocked for a moment and Bilbo laughs before she continues. “So my fourth-great Uncle Bullroarer, though that was just a nickname, his real name was Bandobras; He lead a force of Hobbits to confront the Goblins and drive them off. They, of course, refused to my uncle charged the Goblin ranks armed with his club, and he swung it so hard, it knocked the Goblin King’s head clean off and it sailed through the air about a hundred feet. The Battle, called of the Green Fields, was won that day. The Goblin soldiers fled North Farthing and never returned.” Ori laughs, causing the two of them to be shushed by the Elves in the Library.

    They spend a good few hours in the library before someone came to retrieve them for lunch. They have their lunch and Bilbo tells Ori she wouldn’t be returning to the library with him, but to go outside and get some fresh air and sunlight. 

    She wanders through the quiet garden by herself for a while, looking at the different plant life and such, before she’s found and brought to dinner. She sits again with Bofur, but she’s also joined by Ori and Dori, Fili and Kili, and her children. They all carry out different conversations, and they sometimes intermingle with the others, but mostly just talk all at the same time to each other. Bilbo laughs when she realizes she’s participating it three different conversations. She was making plans to visit the library with Ori, talking with her children about weapons training, and discussing embroidery with Dori. 

    She sits back and looks at the table watching everyone laugh and talk amongst themselves. They’d been moved to a different dining hall one with just one long table to fit all sixteen of them. Thorin was sitting at the head of the table with Balin and Dwalin, and Bilbo was opposite of him at the other end of the table with Bofur and Ori at her sides. The rest of the company were sitting in between, not really in any distinct groups, but mingling with each other.

    It makes her think how fun these past few days had been in Rivendell. They didn’t have the constant worry of being attacked and they could just relax here and just do what they wanted. She’d gotten to know the Dwarves more and was becoming friends with most of them. As far as she could tell, most of them liked her. Thorin, she was sure, probably despised her, and others such as Nori, Oin, and Gloin probably didn’t have too much of an opinion of her, as she didn’t really talk to them much. But other than that she’s had a lot of fun with them and being in Rivendell is really distracting from their impending doom. 

    She laughs at Kili’s stupid joke and reaches for the wine bottle to refill her glass when her hand is stopped. She looks at Bofur with a confused expression. “Why?” she asks

    “I think you’ve had enough,” he says with a chuckle.

    The Twins burst into laughter. “I think you underestimate me, Bofur,” the Hobbit says pulling her hand away and filling her glass.

    “You definitely are,” Bella comments.

    “At the Midsummer’s festival last year, Mum came in third place in the unofficial drinking contest,” Isengrim adds.

    “Unofficial?”

    Bella nods. “There’s no official drinking contest, but it always ends up happening because Gaffer Gamgee always starts it.”

    “How does it go?”

    “Gaffer gets together a group of around ten Hobbits, equal male and female, and people place bets,”Bella explains, “It’s similar to the pie eating contest, just with ale.”

    “Or, if your lucky,” Isengrim adds, “He’ll use his special homebrew.”

    “Ugh, do not remind me,” Bilbo says, “I’m getting a headache just thinking about his homebrew. Last year was the year he included his homebrew, I managed to get through, how many was it?”

    “I believe it was thirty-two, because Flambard won with thirty-four.”

    “That’s right. Thirty-two mugs of Gaffer’s homebrew.” Bilbo laughs and shakes her head. “Strongest in the Shire. Thorin knows.” She points at him from across the table and giggles. “Thorin do you remember your first taste of Gaffer’s homebrew?” She laughs loudly at his near immediate blush. “Can I  _ please _ tell them? Please.” Thorin rolls his eyes, but agrees. “Yes! Okay, just let me compose myself.” Her giggles dwindle until she’s able to speak. “Alright, so I don’t remember the year, but Gaffer brought a few barrels of his brew to a party and wanted to see how many tankards a Dwarf could take. His eyes watered with just a whiff of it! He didn’t even finish ten tankards before he fainted!” Bilbo, as well as the rest of the table, bursts into laughter, and she slaps her hand against the table.

    “That makes me think of the twin’s first drink,” Bilbo laughs.

    “No!” Bella shouts, her face turning red. “No! Do not tell that story!”

    “Now I need to hear this!” Bofur says with a laugh. Bella stands from her place at the table and leaves the room, yelling how she doesn’t need to be here while Bilbo tells the story. So Bilbo tells the story how Bella had the worst alcohol tolerance she’d ever seen. The poor girl was almost drunk after three drinks, and was hungover almost the entire next day. 

    They shared more stories over drinks and, slowly, each of the company left to go to sleep until it was just Bilbo and Bofur sitting in the dimly lit dining hall. They sit at the table drinking and telling stories, until Bofur speaks, “Do you want to see if they have anything stronger than wine?” Bilbo laughs and nods and the two of them go and find the cellar again.

    “How do you know it’s strong?” Bofur asks when Bilbo grabs two bottles of clear liquid.

    “Because it’s clear. Gaffer had this saying that I can’t quite remember at the moment but it says that if it’s clear, it’s strong. Very strong.”

    They bring the drinks back to the dining hall where they drink until they are drunk, giggling messes. Bilbo finds herself sitting on the table with Bofur standing between her legs, pressing wet kisses to her throat. His hands are on her hips, tugging her closer to him; and her hands are in his hair keeping his head at her throat. They were both careful not to kiss each other on the mouth, both giving the reason that it was too intimate.

    “We shouldn’t do this here,” Bilbo says, “not on the table.”

    “Then let’s move elsewhere.”

    Bilbo shrieks with laughter when Bofur lifts her off the table and starts walking out of the dining room, but quickly quiets herself by pressing her face into the Dwarf’s shoulder. He takes them as far as the hallway where their rooms were located before the pause. Bilbo’s back ends up pressed against the door to her room and her legs locked around Bofur’s hips. Her skirt is bunched up around her hips and Bofur’s hands disappear underneath it to grip her rear. Her hands are buried in the Dwarf’s hair, holding his head in place to continue placing open mouthed kisses to her chest and neck, all the while they’re grinding against one another, seeking friction.

    “Bofur,” she gasps, “Bofur, we should..” Her breath hitches in her throat when the Dwarf drags his teeth across the sensitive part of her neck. “We need to stop.”

    “Why? Did I do something wrong?”

    “Well, no, but one thing Hobbits are known for is being incredibly fertile. And, I’d rather not get pregnant by anyone anytime soon.”

    Bofur nods in understanding and just as he’s about to speak, a voice startles them.

    “Do you think this is appropriate?” A deep voice breaks the silence of the hallway and they freeze, looking at each other then down the hall. “Rutting against each other in a darkened hallway like a pair of teenagers?”

    “It seems we’ve been caught,” Bilbo says. She unhooks her legs and stands on the floor, “You’ll be fine on your own, I assume?”

    Bofur nods, “I’d rather not, but, I suppose I don’t have much say.”

    Bilbo smiles and shakes her head, then shoos him away. Once the door to his room shuts, Bilbo opens her own. “Thorin, come in, I want to talk to you for a minute.” The Dwarf hesitates. “I’m not going to do anything to you, I just want to talk.” He goes into the room and she shuts the door and moves around him to grab the bottle of wine that had been in her room and fills a glass, and takes a sip of it, then goes to sit in one of the armchairs by the fireplace and Thorin follows sitting in the other. “Thorin I want you to know that I am completely out-of-my-mind drunk right now and probably won’t remember anything that happened tonight.”

    “And what do you wish for me to do with this information?” The Dwarf King asks, slightly annoyed.

    “Oh, nothing. I’m just telling you because I’m about to let loose twenty-five years of pent up emotions, and I want you to listen.”

    “Okay?”

    “Do you think I’m a whore?” Thorin chokes on air, not expecting her question. “Oh, and I’m going to be very blunt about it. So, do you think I’m a whore? You caught Bofur and I red-handed, rutting against each other after, what? Not even two months after knowing each other?”

    “No, Miss Baggins, I do not think you are a… whore.”

    “That’s interesting, because despite knowing you for six years and courting you for almost two of those, a majority of my neighbors and family thought me a whore because I got pregnant and we weren’t married. And, of course, because we weren’t married, it made my children bastards.” She takes a sip of her wine and glances down at her cup. “I am going to have one hell of a hangover tomorrow. But anyways. I was a whore, which meant that I was avoided, talked about, and treated unfairly. I was also a disgrace to the Baggins name. That one was quite the statement. But I couldn’t care less of what they thought about me. It was my children.” Bilbo’s scowl turns into an angry frown and tears begin to well up in her eyes. “They attacked my children when they had no choice but to be who they are. They were bastards, they were dangerous, they were told that their father abandoned them because their mother was a whore and he didn’t love them or want them.” The Hobbit wipes at her teary eyes and takes another drink. 

    Bilbo, too caught up in trying to think of what else she wanted to mention, did not notice Thorin become more and more angry the more she spoke. “What else?” She rubbed her brow and puts down her glass, “I think I’ve had enough. The other children were told not to play with them because my children might hurt them on purpose, purely for the fact that they were different. I’m speaking in the past tense because now we’re ‘accepted’ into the community. Which is a load of poppycock, I know that they still talk about me and that they still think I’m a whore. But now I don’t want to talk about that anymore, I want to talk about us.”

    The red in Thorin’s face begins to fade. “What?” 

    “I’m going to tell you my side, no interruptions. And then you can tell me yours. Again, I’m not going to remember any of this, but I’m putting my trust in you to fix whatever hell we’ve put ourselves through.”

    “Okay, go ahead.”

    “Summer was ending of 2915. You were leaving to go home to Ered Luin for the Fall and Winter and I was going to stay in the Shire and wait for you to come back. I was pregnant, obviously, though I didn’t know it yet. I watched you leave down the road before I turned around to go home. I sent my first letter about four days after you’d left, I wanted to tell you some stupid thing that happened that I don’t even remember. I didn’t think of anything wrong when I didn’t receive any back, I just kept sending my own, thinking you were just... busy or something.”

    “What are you talking about?”

    “Hey! I said no interruptions.”

    “I apologize, continue.”

    “It wasn’t until just about when the post office was supposed to close when I found out I was pregnant. I wrote that letter as quickly as I could before sending it off to be sent, hoping that it would go through. But again nothing back, so I just assumed I didn’t make it in time so I would just have to wait until Spring to tell you. So, Spring came, but you didn’t. What was I supposed to think? You sold the forge and hadn’t been sending me any letters. I just figured you didn’t want anything to do with me anymore. I was the butt of some joke, a naive girl that you could play with and once you made a mistake, you couldn’t deal with it, so you broke it off entirely. I actually put myself into labour that day, I was angry and I suppose those two did not want to be inside of an angry Hobbit.” Bilbo laughs at the thought, but continues. “I don’t know what made me do it, but I continued to write to you. I told you when they were born, when they started crawling, and talking, and walking. Just updating you on their milestones and birthdays. I eventually got over you, well, ‘got over’ you. I don’t think I’ve ever gotten over you properly. I think that was the point where they stopped viewing you as their father but rather the one who abandoned them.

    “Because that was the year they stopped wanting to send you things. Before that, it was every week, ‘Mama can you send this to Papa?’ it was always an assortment of things. Most of the time it was drawings or pretty things they picked up from outside, but sometimes they would send you their own letters. They were learning how to write and wanted practice, so who was I to say no?” She stops and smiles thinking of the times of when her children were younger. “After that I became almost bitter towards you. It was like the stages of grief except I skipped a few and they weren’t in order.”

    “You had every right to be,” Thorin says, “Now that I’m hearing your side, I feel like a complete--”

    “Asshole?” Bilbo suggests with a smile

    Thorin chuckles “Yes, actually.” He rubs a hand over his face. “Could I have that?” he asks, pointing to Bilbo’s abandoned glass of wine. She hands it over with a grin and Thorin frowns. “How do I know you’re not lying?”

    Bilbo snorts, “Thorin, drunk people don’t  _ lie _ .” She pauses, thinking. “Well, they might, but I’ve never heard of a drunk person lying before. What’s your side, now?”

    Thorin takes a breath. “When I returned home that Fall, I was told by my sister that the people had become angry that I was leaving every summer for my sister to take control. They wanted me, their King to rule them.”

    “That was another thing, you never told me you were royalty”

    “I thought you said no interruptions?”

    “I said my story couldn’t have interruptions, not yours,” Bilbo says with a giggle in her voice, “But I won’t say anything until your done, I promise.”

    “So the first thing I wanted to do was tell you. I sat down and wrote it all out. I told you how I was a king and that I couldn’t come back for the summers anymore. I said how I sold the forge and how sorry I was, but that I would try and visit you when I could.”

    “Then why didn’t you?” Bilbo asks bitterly, then realizes her mistake, “Sorry, sorry.”

    “I didn’t get anything back. There was no word that you even wanted to see me anymore. I wanted to come out and see you, to see what went wrong, but I got caught up in all the missives and work that went into being a leader. Our mines were starting to collapse, our crops were doing badly and there was little food. The Firebeards and the Broadbeams were at each other’s throats again. There was so much that I was neglecting and shoving onto my sister’s shoulders because all I wanted to do was see you. I tried to send you letters when I could and every time I sent one I became more and more angry that you weren’t replying, so I just stopped all together and put you in the back of my mind, or I tried at least.” He sighs and downs the rest of his drink. “Coming back and seeing you again just pulled that anger back up and it was surprising to see you so angry at me. And then Bella and Isengrim, I just became more angry because I thought you kept them from me on purpose.”

    Bilbo chuckles bitterly. “Some pair we are, eh?”

    “Don’t you think it’s suspicious?”

    “What is?”

    “That were weren’t receiving each other’s letters?”

    “I suppose. I mean mail sometimes gets lost but it’s usually only a letter or two, not all of them. Do you think the council had something to do with it? All mail has to go through Tuckborough before it can be sent off to where it’s supposed to go.”

    “But who would do that?”

    “Milo. The Chubb that didn’t want you in Hobbiton in the first place. He’s the only one with enough power to do it.” Bilbo shrugs and then yawns.

    “You should sleep,” Thorin says, standing from the armchair, “I should go.”

    “Wait, please.” Bilbo’s voice turns desperate and Thorin gives her a confused look. She stands from her chair and moves to stand in front of him. “I’m sorry that they made you hate me.” Bilbo whispers as she wraps her arms around Thorin and presses herself against him.

    “I could never hate you,” the Dwarf replies, closing her into an embrace, “I tried to, I really did. But every time I tried to list the reasons why I should, I would start to list the reasons why I can’t.”

    Bilbo laughs softly, “I would do the same thing.” They stay for a moment just standing in each other’s presence and wishing everything could just fix itself and they could go back to the way they were before. The two of the pull out of their embrace and look at each other for a moment. “Before you go, could you help me with this?” she turns around. “Could you untie it and help me out of it?”

    Thorin laughs, but agrees and pulls on the ribbons until they are loose enough to remove the corset from the Hobbit. “There, now try and sleep, you’ve got quite the messy day ahead of you.”

    Bilbo groans, “Don’t remind me.” She pulls her blouse from under her skirt and bids the Dwarf a good night, when he leave she unbuttons her blouse and drops it on the floor and does the same with her skirt when she’s gotten it off, barely manages to tug her nightgown on, and then climbs into the bed and falls asleep.

 

    Thorin shuts the door behind him and as he walks slowly back to his room, he recounts all of the information that was given to him. Someone in Tuckborough had been tampering with their mail. Milo seems to be the culprit, he didn’t like Thorin in the first place and he certainly didn’t like it when he and Bilbo announced their courtship. If he remembers correctly, Milo was supposed to be one of Bilbo’s potential suitors for when she decided she wanted to start courting, though he remembers Bilbo telling him that she didn’t like him because he was rude and entitled. He goes into his room and shuts the door behind him as he makes his way to the bed. He yanks off his boots and strips down to his undertunic and trousers, then climbs into the bed to sleep. But sleep doesn’t find him. He lies awake in the overly large bed, staring up at the ceiling and thinking. If he’d gone back one last time, everything would have been different. He and Bilbo would probably be properly married and his children wouldn’t despise him. He closes his eyes again, trying to clear his mind, but Bilbo’s words echoed in his mind. ‘ _ I’m putting my trust in you to fix whatever hell we’ve put ourselves through. _ ’

    What did she know that he didn’t? Did she know part of his story before he told her? If so, how did she come to know? Who told her? There were only five people he told about Bilbo, four of whom are a part of this company. Dwalin doesn’t care so he wouldn’t tell her. Fili and Kili like Bilbo so something might have slipped when they were talking to her, but that doesn’t seem right. Finally, there was Balin. Balin wouldn’t say anything, he’s respectful of other people’s secrets. But maybe there was something that he did that nudged Bilbo in the direction of finding out.

    He shakes his head. If he keeps thinking about this, he’s going to dig himself into a hole and never go to sleep. So, he clears his head, rolls over onto his stomach and lets sleep take over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter, I worked really hard on it because there was literally nothing I could go on to write about what they were doing in Rivendell for those fourteen days they were there, so I had to make everything up. I also know that Elves mature faster than they grow physically, but I wanted the younger Elves to act like children, not like adults.  
> And yes, I think Thorin is a stomach sleeper.  
> But anyway, you can follow me on tumblr @ blubuddi974  
> Also, I don't stress this, but please!! leave a comment to tell me what you thought about this chapter, or even the entire fic, just something! I always feel discouraged when I don't get comments on what I write, because I don't know if people like it or not.


	5. A Not-So-Short Rest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still in Rivendell, I had a bit of a difficult time trying to figure out what the heck to write because what are they supposed to do? But the chapter ends with the last night in Rivendell so next chapter will be the last for AUJ, then we will be moving on to DOS, but this time I won't be changing everything at the last minute.

    Bilbo wakes up to the worst headache she’s ever had. Her head throbs at any sort of noise or movement and when there’s a pounding at the door, she lets out a whine and pulls the blankets over her head. The door opens and she peeks from under the blanket to see Oin bustling in with Bella and Isengrim right behind. “Up you get, lass,” the Dwarf healer says standing at the side of the bed, to Bilbo’s left. She whines but sits up slowly, holding her head. He hands her a glass. “Here, it’ll take the edge off.”

    She takes the cup and down the contents, making a disgusted noise after swallowing it. “That was terrible,” she comments.

    He hands her another glass. “This is just water, it’ll take away the taste.” She takes that one as well and drinks it. “Make sure to drink plenty of water and we’ll have breakfast sent down to you, make sure to eat all of it, you’ve lost too much weight.”

    She nods slowly, making sure not to increase her headache. “What happened? I remember Bofur and I drinking for a bit longer after everyone left but after that it’s all blank”

    “Thorin says the two of you were absolutely hammered,” Oin offers, “Stumbling through the hallways, trying to help each other get to your respective rooms. He had to help both of you to your rooms.” Bilbo glances at her nightgown, not remembering if she’d put it on herself. “Don’t worry, he said you were completely clothed when he last saw you.”

    She nods and pours another glass of water and Oin exits the room, leaving her with her children. The Twins tuck themselves into their mother’s sides. “Bofur’s exactly the same as you right now.” Bella says, “He’s being absolutely ridiculous, though. Whining like a baby.” Bilbo laughs and she drinks her water as she was instructed.

    Later, a knock at the door signifies Bilbo’s breakfast is here and she tell her children to join the other for breakfast, and that she’d be fine by herself. They leave reluctantly and the Elf enters and places the tray on the bed and leaves the room. Bilbo eats her breakfast while she reads; she borrowed a few storybooks from the Library and was entertaining herself with the stories. She was particularly enjoying the book about a little girl chasing a white rabbit in a waistcoat and falling down a rabbit hole to a completely other world, which she has travel through to get back home, encountering drinks and cakes that turn her big and small, blue caterpillars, and mad hatters.

    She’s halfway through the fifth chapter when she decides sleep would be a good thing to do. She closes the book and places it on the nightstand, then moves the empty tray to the desk, then gets back into bed and lays down.

    The rest of that day goes on rather uneventful, Bilbo eats the meals that are brought to her, she reads, and she sleeps. Oin comes and checks on her before the end of the day, and encourages her not to drink the way she did for a while. Bilbo laughs and tells him she’ll probably never drink like that ever again.

    The next day goes on much more usual, Bilbo joins the company for all their meals and doesn’t spend most of her time in her room. She spends a few hours in the library with Ori before she’s called away.

    She meets her children in the courtyard with her sword as she was told. “What’s this all about?” she asks.

    “We are going to teach you how to use your sword properly,” Bella says and she rolls up her sleeves.

    “Since you were unable to do it yesterday like we planned.”

    “That’s right,” Bilbo nods, “So, what do I do?”

    Bilbo does as she’s told and removes her jacket and rolls her sleeves before mimicking the stance Bella is showing her. It isn’t long into the lesson before Dwalin approaches and asks to assist, as he’d taught many young Dwarrow how to use weapons. To Bilbo’s surprise, the Twins agree to let him help and they accept the corrections he offers. Of course, only about a half hour later, Fili and Kili join their lesson and soon after they turn it into a play wrestling match after they each tackle the twins to ground. Bilbo laughs and she turns to ask Dwalin if the siblings are always like that.

    He nods. “They usually end their lessons early with mischief. I’ve learned to expect it.” Bilbo laughs and startles when Elenion appears at her side.

    “Hello Elenion, have you come to steal him away?” She asks

    “I am. Hello,  _ Meleth nin _ ,” he says looking down at Isengrim who was pinned to the ground by Kili.

    “Hi,” Isengrim replies. 

    “I can see you’re a bit preoccupied, should I come back later?” The Elf asks, a chuckle in his voice.

    “No, we were just finishing up Mum’s lesson, weren’t we, Ma?”

    “I believe so, Kili let him up.”

    Kili does so and helps Isengrim to his feet, then, of course, asks the dreaded question. “So who’s this, Grim? A friend of yours?”

    Isengrim scratches his head and looks up at the Elf. “Of a sorts, I suppose,” he says, “Elenion is.. Um.. well. He’s my-- We are--”

    “We’re courting,” Elenion explains.

    “Yes, that. We are courting.”

    “And though we’re not engaged, we do often talk about the wedding. We’re very excited for our courtship to reach the length of time where it is allowed to propose.” Elenion continues to ramble on about their plans for their future and Isengrim just watches him speak with a look of complete love and adoration on his face. Bilbo smiles and subconsciously glances toward where she last saw Thorin. When she locks eyes with him, she realizes what she’s done and frowns and looks away. 

    “Why do you have to wait so long?” Kili asks

    “Because Mum says so. She want’s us to wait for me to be of age before we get married, to make sure we know exactly what we’re doing, and not get married on a whim like Humans do.”

    “I guess that makes sense. But if he’s your One, why should it matter?”

    “Because that’s her wish, and I don’t want to disobey my mother,” Isengrim states, “It’s the same reason why if she didn’t want me to be on this quest, I wouldn’t be.”

    Bilbo smiles and places her hand on her son’s shoulder. “You should go, you don’t want to be late.”

    “Right, thank you, Bilbo.” Elenion smiles and leads Isengrim away.

    “Where are they going?” Fili asks.

    “They planned to have dinner with Elenion’s parents this evening,” Bilbo explains, “They wanted to spend time with their son’s betrothed.”

    “Why aren’t you and Bella going?”

    “We have a different day planned for all of us to go,” Bella says, “I guess this means the lesson’s over, I’m going to put my things away.” Bilbo nods and Bella soon leaves and Fili and Kili find something else to do. Bilbo sighs and sits down on the stone bench closest to her.

    “Why do you want Isengrim to be of age before he gets married?” Dwalin asks suddenly.

    “Most Hobbits do. They usually don’t even start looking for courtship until they’ve reached adulthood. And I want both of my children to be adults before they get married.” She picks up her sword and sheaths it and folds her coat on her lap. “I want them to make sure they know what they’re doing, so they don’t make a mistake, not like I did.”

    Dwalin sits beside her. “What do you mean?”

    “I look at Thorin and I’s previous relationship as a mistake. I should have been more careful, not have been so naive and gullible. I was barely a tween when we started courting, and I was told multiple times that it wasn’t as serious as I thought it was and I would just end up getting my heart broken, and they were right. Look, I’m going back to my room, have someone get me for dinner.” He nods and Bilbo leaves the courtyard and makes her way back to her room. She desperately wishes to take a long, hot bath, but knows that the water won’t heat unless she puts it over a fire. So, she lights the fireplace and plants herself in front of it, but not before moving the armchairs away from the fire to do some stretches on the floor in front of the fireplace. She does multiple stretches she recalls from the midwife when she was pregnant, and notices that they are much easier to do without a swollen midsection.

    As she bends over to try and touch her toes, a knock sounds at the door. “Come in!” she shouts, keeping count of how long she’s supposed to remain in that position. The person who opens the door yelps in surprise, and Bilbo looks between her legs to see who it is. She shoots up to a standing position, making herself dizzy.

    Thorin winces and reaches for Bilbo, to steady her. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

    “You didn’t scare me,” Bilbo retorts, “You just startled me. I didn’t expect you to be on the other side of the door. To be honest, I expected Bofur. I had a joke ready and everything.”

    “Does Bofur usually come get you?”

    “Most of the time, yes. Sometimes it’s Ori, and other times Bella and Isengrim, but they are usually somewhere else.”

    “You’ve become good friends.”

    “Yes?” Bilbo looks at Thorin with a confused expression, unsure of his intentions. 

    “I wish to ask you something, but it’s quite personal, and you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.” At Bilbo’s nod, he continues. “Would you ever consider a romantic relationship with Bofur?”

    Bilbo startles Thorin when she bursts into laughter. “Goodness no! Where on Earth did you get that idea? Bofur and I are strictly friends, and besides I’m fairly sure he has his eye on someone else, but I’m not sure, so I’m not saying anything.”

    Thorin nods. “I was just curious, but I came to retrieve you for dinner.”

    “Okay.” Bilbo nods and goes to follow him out the room. As they walk down the hallway together, Bilbo looks at Thorin. “I’m not trying to be rude, but why did you come get me?”

    Thorin sighs. “I want us to be at least civil toward each other. There’s nothing we can do to change the past, but we can at least make the future move a little smoother. I know there is still anger and resentment but I’d like for that to be put behind us so that we may move beyond it.”

    Bilbo purses her lips and thinks. She’s had all these emotions built up for all these years and they’ve just made her tired. She wants to continue being angry at him, but finds that it’s difficult because he’s just as charming as he was when she fell in love with him. Even after twenty-five years of the anger that he never made the choice to even tell her that he didn’t want to continue their relationship, she can’t help but want to let it all go. And she knows there are some holes in their story. Balin had hinted to her that Thorin was not receiving her letters, and at first she thought that maybe someone had been keeping them from him, but then she remembered that Thorin hadn’t told anyone about her other than his immediate family and Balin and Dwalin. She then considered maybe someone in the Shire had kept her letters, there were many Hobbits who didn’t like Thorin and were set on trying to break them up. And if that were what happened, why hadn’t he become suspicious and came back to find her? But she can’t ask that unless she asks herself why hadn’t she pursued him and found out why he hadn’t replied to her letters. There’s no excuse for her to not to find out. It was just an assumption that they didn’t want anything to do with each other. Maybe all the comments had gotten to them and they secretly thought that their relationship would fall apart. 

    But, there are only two options. She could either deny and stay angry for the rest of her life, or she could agree and perhaps let go of all her anger and maybe form a better relationship with Thorin. They could never go back to the way they were, not after everything they’ve been through and not after what will happen after this quest is over, but maybe they could talk about everything and maybe become something close to what could be considered friends. 

    After thinking for a long time, Bilbo nods. “I think I’d like that,” she says, placing her hands behind her back, “But I’m not sitting next to you.” The Hobbit smiles at her small joke, and Thorin chuckles.

    “No I think we’ve both learned that lesson,” He replies, “It was 2914 at your grandfather’s birthday party. I was sitting on your left, and I was passing you something, do you remember what it was?”

    “It was the Shepherd's Pie my aunt spent three days preparing,” Bilbo informs, “And you dropped it into my lap.”

    “It was an accident, I thought you had a good hold on it.”

    “I know it was, and I wasn’t the one who was angry with you, you don’t have to defend yourself to me.”

    “Your aunt refused to talk to me for months,” the Dwarf recalls

    Bilbo giggles. “She didn’t even want to be in the same room as you. She did tell me later that year that she wanted to apologize for yelling at you and that she recognized that it was an accident.” When they reach the dining room, they separate and go sit at opposite ends of the table and wait for their meal to be delivered.  Dinner goes on as usual, with a few extra glances across the table and with less food being thrown around.

    That is, until Thorin stands up from the table glaring thunderously at either Fili or Kili, Bilbo can’t tell because both of them are looking down at their plates, and storms away. There is a small bout of silence at the awkwardness of the situation before Bofur turns back to Bilbo and continues their conversation. After that, everyone else goes back to their meals and conversations, but there is still that awkwardness for the rest of the meal.

    As they finish their meals, the company leaves the table. Bilbo offers Bofur a smile as he leaves the room and stands from her seat to walk over to where Fili and Kili were still sitting. She takes the seat to Fili’s left and smiles at them. “Are you two alright?”

    Fili nods. “Yes, I shouldn’t have said what I did. I knew it would make Uncle mad.”

    Bilbo nods in understanding, and purses her lips to think for a moment. “I have an idea,” She says, “How about, you two finish eating and then all three of us can go talk a short walk and you can tell me what you’re able to. How does that sound?”

    Kili smiles softly. “That sounds nice.” Bilbo grins and she sits with the Dwarven siblings until they finish their meal. She then takes the two of them out into the garden and walks with them through the endless maze of flora. 

    “So what happened?” Bilbo queries.

    “I can’t tell you specifically, because it’s not my place to tell,” Fili begins, lightly tugging on her moustache braid, “But, I brought up something that is very sensitive to Uncle and he got angry with me. He doesn’t like talking about it and I knew he’d get mad, but I brought it up anyway.”

    Bilbo nods slowly as they continue walking, and as she opens her mouth to speak, Kili interrupts. “What was that?” he asks.

    “What was what?” Bilbo responds, looking in the same direction as the Dwarf.

    She sees a gleam of light in the slow approaching darkness of the garden and Kili points to it. “That!” he says. 

    Bilbo laughs, much to the confusion of the two Dwarves. Fili tilts her head and goes to where they saw the light. Slowly more flickers of light appear around them and Bilbo reaches out and catches one. “Here look,” She says. The two Dwarves move close to her, looking at her cupped hands. She opens her hands to reveal the small bug.

    “What is it?” Fili asks

    “It’s a firefly,” Bilbo informs, watching the insect open it’s wings and fly away.

    “What’s a firefly?” Kili queries.

    “It’s a bug. They come out at night in the summer and they glow,” She answers, “North and West Farthing tends to have more yellow fireflies, East Farthing has more orange, and South Farthing has more green. Hobbiton was close to the border of all the Farthings, so we were always seeing all the colors. But my favorite have always been the green ones, I don’t know why, but I love them.”

    “I’ve never seen these before,” Fili says, “What makes them light up?”

Bilbo shrugs. “I’m not sure, something in their anatomy, I suppose.” She smiles softly. “You’re Uncle used to think they were stars.”

    Kili snorts. “What?”

    Bilbo nods. “He told me that when he was a child, he was always inside the mountain, so when he left and saw them, he thought they were stars. He told me that a Human had laughed at him for thinking they were stars and told him what they were.”

    “I could see why he thought they were stars,” Fili says, “They’re twinkling lights in the sky, they could easily be mistaken as stars.”

    “And they’re bugs?” Kili asks, catching one to inspect it.

    Bilbo confirms, “They are. One of the lesser nuisances. But they can get annoying when fauntlings want to keep them in jars.” The Hobbit chuckles. “Isengrim was amazed when he first saw them and wanted to keep every single one he saw. I told him that he couldn’t because they would all die in a matter of days. He didn’t believe me and he cried for hours when they all died.” Fili and Kili burst into laughter, thinking about their cousin as a small child wishing to keep all the insects in jars and crying when they inevitably died. “If you like that, I have plenty of stories from when the Twins were faunts.”

    “I’m sure our Amad has plenty of stories about us as well,” Kili comments, “She told me one about Fee when she was twenty. They were at a party and a Dam happened to be wearing the same color dress as Amad.” Fili lets out a whine of embarrassment, making her brother laugh before he continues his story. “It’s important to mention that Fili, like many Dwarflings, liked to hide under Amad’s skirts.” Bilbo snorts and covers her mouth to silence her laughter. “So you know where this is going. Fili just saw the color of the dress and the Dam’s dark hair and crawled under her skirt, assuming it was our Mother.” The Hobbit and young Dwarrow laugh together and Fili blushes furiously out of embarrassment.

    “Kili used to hide under Amad’s skirts too!” she says, “And he used to do it until he was forty!”

    “Yes, but I never hid under a strange Dwarrowdam’s skirt!”

    “It was an accident!”

    “Fili! Kili! Please!” Bilbo laughs, “Enough of this! There’s no need to fight, Fili. All you need to do is tell an embarrassing story about Kili when he was little, then you’ll be even.”

    “But I don’t--!” Fili halts herself, before grinning deviously.

    “What?” Kili asks, “What do you have? Why are you smiling like that?” Fili just smiles and goes to catch another firefly. “What do you know that I don’t?” Fili continues to not respond to her brother, and instead turns to Bilbo.

    “I wonder why we don’t have them in the mountains,” she says, opening her hands to look at the bugs.

    “It might be too cold for them,” Bilbo suggests, “They tend to like warm weather. They also seem to like water, like ponds and rivers, and forests. I find it odd that we haven’t seen any until now, we should have seen some.”

    “Perhaps the places we’ve travelled through were not to their liking,” Kili says with a shrug, looking at the insect crawling across his hand, “Or that there were just better places than where we were.”

    “I suppose that could be it,” Bilbo responds.

    After a short silence of the three of them catching and watching fireflies, Fili looks at Bilbo. “Bilbo,” she says, reaching up to thumb at her moustache braid.

    “Yes, Fili?” The Hobbit answers.

    “Would you mind telling me more about Hobbits?” she asks, “Like their customs and such. According to Uncle, we only have a few more days here, and I’d like to take this time to learn more about the race I know littlest of.”

    “What caused the sudden interest?” Bilbo queries.

    “Just something Uncle and I were talking about yesterday.”

    “And I suppose you can’t tell me about that either?” Fili gives her a sad smile and nods. “I suppose I could, there’s not too much to learn, to tell you the truth. We could probably go over everything before we leave.”

    “Could we start tomorrow?”

    “Of course, Kili would you like to come too?”

    Kili looks up from his hands, a blank expression on his face. “What?”

    “Would you like to join Fili in learning a bit more on Hobbits?” 

    Kili scrunches up his face and shakes his head. “No thanks. I don’t do well with lessons, Fee can tell me everything.”

    Bilbo and Fili laugh and they stay in the garden for a while, until Bilbo decides it’s become too dark and they all go back inside. They find Thorin pacing the hallway outside their rooms. Once he see the three of them, he sighs and visibly relaxes. “Fili,” he says, “I’d like to talk to you.” She reaches for her moustache but forces her arm down, then nods and follows her uncle to a few feet away where they talk in hushed voices.

    Kili turns to Bilbo. “Bilbo,” he says.

    “Yes, Kili?” the Hobbit asks.

    “I’ve been thinking, well, Fili and I have been thinking. And we were wondering if we could name you our Irak’amad.” The Dwarf smiles shyly and his face is tinted pink. “We wouldn’t call you that, we’d probably just go with Auntie or something similar. Like with Uncle, we just use the Westron word because Irak’adad is just too tedious.”

    Bilbo smiles warmly and nods. “I’d be honored to be your Aunt, Kili.” The Dwarrow smiles brightly and pulls the Hobbit into a hug. 

 

    Over the next few days, Bilbo and Fili meet in the library for Fili’s ‘lessons’ on Hobbits. After three days, they’ve reached courting and Bilbo laughs at the memories of her and Thorin’s courtship. “He was terrible at keeping secrets,” she says, “So it wasn’t difficult to figure out he was making something for me.”

    “What was it?” Fili asks with a smile.

    “Here I’ll show you.” Bilbo reaches into her pocket and pulls out the small bead. “This is it. I was, and still am, amazed at the skill that was put into this little thing.”

    “It’s beautiful,” Fili says in awe, “I would have gone for different metals, but still, it is beautiful.”

    “You’re Uncle said the same thing. I told him I didn’t care for the metal, it was just that he made me it that mattered.” She looks up and sees that the Dam has a question on her tongue, but isn’t voicing it. “You want to know why I still have it, yes?” Fili nods. “I’m not sure. I suppose it just has too much sentimental value to it. I always keep it on my person, I’m afraid of losing it.”

    Fili nods slowly. “You and Uncle have been getting along lately, haven’t you?”

    Bilbo nods, but give Fili and disapproving look. “We have been, but that’s not what we’re discussing.” 

    “Come on, Bilbo, just give me something.” Fili complains.

    “We’re putting everything behind us since it’s apparently not what it seemed to be when it was happening.”

    “Do you mean the letters?”

    “How do you know about that?”

    “I wasn’t that young when you met, I was trying to convince Uncle to let me send you a letter like Amad did.”

    Bilbo chuckles, “Your Mother made me so angry with that letter, accusing me of not-- No, we’re getting off task.”

    “Uncle wasn’t receiving your letters after he came home the last time.”

    “I know, Balin sort of told me. I wasn’t getting any either. I thought that after I’d sent the letter telling him that I was pregnant he didn’t want anything to do with me or the baby, which to my surprise turned out to be two. I was utterly heartbroken.”

    “Uncle was sort of the same. But without the pregnant thing.” The two of the giggle for a moment before Fili speaks again. “He was worried you didn’t want to be with him after he’d told you he was a King and all. His heart was broken as well, for years he was in a deep depression, until suddenly he was just angry. He refused to let anyone mention you or even offer to come find you. He said if you wanted to find him, you would have to come to Ered Luin.”

    Bilbo sighs and places her chin in her hands. “I almost did. My mother was so close to convincing me to go seek him out, but I didn’t. I told myself I could do this on my own and that I didn’t need him.” The Hobbit sighs again and rubs her forehead. “Can we please get back to what we were doing?” Fili nods and Bilbo takes a deep breath before continuing.

    They finish their meeting when they are fetched for lunch and Fili takes Bofur’s usual seat, which is to Bilbo’s left, and of course Kili sits directly beside her, then Bella and Isengrim sit across from them. Bilbo laughs at Bofur’s confused look and just tells him to sit with his brother and cousin. The Hobbit is intrigued by the conversations Fili and Kili have with her children, they have multiple hypothetical debates over one meal. They begin with the same one they ended breakfast with. They were debating whether or not a Balrog could be bested by an Elf.

    “I’m telling you, it could not happen,” Kili says

    “But it was recorded that Glorfindel had killed one when he and the other Gondolindrim were escaping through Cirith Thoronath,” Bella argues.

    “That was also during the First Age,” Fili says before stabbing a piece of cooked game with her fork and stuffing it into her mouth. 

    “Which means not everything could be accurate,” Kili adds, “And besides, Glorfindel was killed just after, the Balrog caught him by the hair and pulled him down with him. So that shouldn’t count as a win.”

    “He still killed it!”

    “But he didn’t live to tell the tale so it doesn’t count!”

    “What do you mean it doesn’t count? It does too count, there were others who witnessed it!” Bilbo rolls her eyes in amusement at their bickering.

    “Only in the books it says! And those are the same books that say Glorfindel was reborn because the Valar said he could.”

    “Durin was reborn. You denying that Glorfindel was reborn is denying that Durin was reborn.” Bella leans back against her chair and smiles smugly. “And being reborn on five different occasions seems a bit made up to me.”

    Kili looks as if he’s going to explode, so Bilbo quickly intervenes. “Belladonna Baggins!” She shouts, slamming her hand onto the tabletop, “You will not disrespect their culture and their history for such trivial reasonings.” The Hobbit stands from her chair and marches over to her daughter’s seat, pulling her chair out and grabbing her arm. “Have I not taught you such?” She forces Bella out of her seat and leads her away from the table and out of the dining room. 

    “Mama, I’m sorry!” Bella cries

    “I’m not the one you should be apologizing to.”

    “I didn’t think it would get such a reaction.”

    “Well it did.”

    “Mama, I’m sorry, I just thought that it was ridiculous that he was denying something and yet simultaneously believing in it.”

    Bilbo sighs deeply and covers her face with her hands. “I know, but you can’t be insensitive. I thought I taught you that.” She rubs her daughter’s arm gently as reassurance. “I want you to go apologize to them, all of them.” Bella nods and enters the dining room again. Bilbo doesn’t follow for a moment, she stands outside and thinks about how young her children still are. She takes a final deep breath before turning and going back into the dining room. Bilbo doesn’t make much conversation after she sits back down, she just sets her chin in her left hand and picks at her food while lost in her thoughts. She glances up after a moment and meets Thorin’s concerned gaze from across the table. She offers him a small smile before glancing down at her plate again.

    Her distant manner remains even after lunch had concluded and she begins to wander. She’s been all over Rivendell, so she knows where she’s going and where she’s been, and she finds herself standing on a balcony looking out over most of the Elven city, resting her chin on the railing.

    “Not with your companions?” Lord Elrond remarks, startling the Hobbit.

    “No, I’ve just been thinking,” she replies, “Thinking makes me wander, and wandering makes me think.”

    “About what?”

    “Did I make the right choice?” She asks, “By bringing Bella and Grim with me? I keep forgetting how young they are, they seem so much older. They’re hardly close to being adults and even after they’ve become of age most Hobbits don’t mature until their forties and fifties.”

    “What about you? When did you mature?”

    “When I had to. I became a Mother at twenty-five, I had more than myself to take care of. I couldn’t act like a child anymore, even though I still was one. But I don’t know if I should have brought them. I should have made them stay home, they’d be safer that way. They’re so young, they haven’t had enough time to live, and I could be taking that time away from them by bringing them along.” 

    “Truthfully, Fili and Kili aren’t much older than your  _ gwenyn, _ ” Elrond mentions. 

    “Yes, but they’re still older. Gloin mentioned he has a son who’s around their age, but he didn’t allow him to join them because he was too young. I do not fear that they think of me as a bad parent, I care not of what people think of me. I... I only fear they are correct.”

    Elrond places a hand on the Hobbit’s shoulder. “All parents fear they will not be up to the task of being one.”

    “You’re not helping,” Bilbo says with a chuckle, “If anything, you’re making me feel even worse.” She sighs and rests her forehead against the railing. “I don’t want to feel like I’m putting my children in danger.”

    “You’ve seen them fight, yes?”

    “I have,” she confirms, “They’re completely ridiculous, it’s like they’re playing a game when in fact they’re being attacked and there are creatures trying to kill them.” Bilbo sighs and hangs her head. “You’re trying to tell me that if they can laugh in the face of death they’re not in as much danger as I think they are, aren’t you?” Elrond only gives her a soft smile, one she believes to have mischief behind it. “That’s not what I’m worried about, well… it’s not the  _ main _ thing I’m worried about. I worry about the dragon, there’s no knowing whether the beast is alive or not, and I’m afraid of what will happen if we enter the mountain. I wish to be clear that I do not only worry for my children’s lives, as well as my own, but I worry for the entire company. I may not be very close to all of them, but I want them to come out of this quest alive.”

    “Your purpose is to enter the mountain?” The Elf Lord asks

    “Yes,” Bilbo answers, then realizes her mistake, “Oh, I’m sorry, I don’t think you were supposed to know that. Though I’m sure you would have found out eventually, I’m sure Thorin will let something slip when we look at the Moon Runes, so try to act like you didn’t know already.”

    Elrond nods and he turns away, but hesitates and lays a hand on Bilbo’s shoulder. “You may stay here, if that is your wish. My home is open to you and your family from now on.” He then offers her a warm smile and walks away. 

    Bilbo watches him leave with her brows furrowed in thought. She could stay in Rivendell, she and her family could stay for another few days and then go home. They could be out of danger and back into the safety of their home. But for how long? How long will the Shire be safe? When will Goblins attack again? When will their home be unsafe? Will it be in a year, two, ten, a hundred? Because it won’t be safe forever, unlike what the other Hobbit’s think. They don’t think about threats or danger in a bigger sense. What if someone, like the Orcs that have been chasing them on this quest, decides to surprise them and attack the Shire; kill or take them to be sold as pets or slaves. It wasn’t unheard of, there were many stories about Men taking women and children from their own race, and sometimes other races, to be sold for various reasons. And, Bilbo remembers reading something in a history book that long before Hobbits travelled across the Misty Mountains, they were stolen from their homes to be pets for wealthy families in the worlds of Men. It was terrifying to think of, that eventually their home won’t be as safe as it is now. She shakes her head and tells herself to stop thinking like that, but she can’t help but wonder.

 

    Bilbo sighs when, yet again, Kili pins her to the ground. “Kili I don’t think this is working.” She says.

    “Don’t be ridiculous, Auntie,” the Dwarrow laughs, pulling the Hobbit to her feet, “You’ve gotten much better than when you first started.”

    “How so?” Kili’s mouth twitches into a smile then he glances over Bilbo’s shoulder and nods. Bilbo stiffens when she’s attacked from behind and reaches to grab a hold of her assailant and tucks into herself to flip them over onto their back. She then scrambles to turn and face them and once she sees who it is she frowns deeply. “Fili! You scared the living daylights out of me!”

    “See? I told you you were getting better!”

    Bilbo sighs and stands up before holding out her hand to help Fili up. “That’s not how I expected you to show me.”

    “But, even though you are getting better, you still have a long way to come,” Fili comments, “I displayed no attempt to defend myself, so even though you can manage to flip me, you still need to learn to continue to fight after you’ve gotten them down.”

    Bilbo nods. “Right, well… let’s keep going, we only have three days left.” The siblings nod and they continue with the lessons on hand-to-hand combat. 

    They stop the training for long enough to bathe and go to lunch, then they return to the courtyard to continue; repeating the same moves over and over until it’s muscle memory. By then, Bilbo is dripping with sweat and breathing heavily. “Bilbo,” Kili says, concerned, “Are you sure you want to keep going?”

    She nods and looks at Fili who’s tugging on her moustache “Bilbo, I think we should stop,” she says, “You’re going to hurt yourself and then all this progress will be lost.” Bilbo hangs her head and cards her fingers through her sweat-soaked hair, wincing when she gets caught in the knots.

    “You’re right,” the Hobbit groans, “I just want to be able to do this, I don’t want to feel like burden anymore.”

    “You’re not a burden, Auntie,” Fili says, “Don’t be ridiculous.”

    “And besides, it’s not going to take a few nights for you to learn this, Bilbo. It took us years to be as good as we are and we’re not even that good!” Kili shouts with a grin. 

    “But, if you really want to keep training,” Fili adds “We can do it every night that you’re able to when we’re back on the road. But for right now, you should go take a long bath, we’ll come fetch you for supper.” The Hobbit nods and goes to her room to take a bath. 

    She loses track of time and finds herself still in the bath when a knock sounds at the door. She scrambles to drain the tub and calls out to the door. “Just a minute!” She then hurries to dress herself and opens the door while patting her hair dry with a towel. “Fili, hello. Come in, I’ll be just a minute, I lost track of time.” She picks up her comb and begins to untangle her hair. “Fili, would you be a doll and put my hair in a braid for me? Just a thick simple one, nothing special.” The Dam nods and takes the comb from the Hobbit, and begins to run it through her hair. She swiftly puts Bilbo’s hair into a braid and ties it off.

    “There you go,” Fili says.

    “Thank you, dear.” Bilbo smiles and kisses Fili’s cheek before pulling her braid over her left shoulder. “Okay, well. I think I’m ready, we should head out.” Fili agrees and they set off toward the dining room. 

 

    Bilbo lies awake in the overly large bed on their last night in Rivendell. Gandalf had devised a plan for them the day before and they were to leave the next morning before the break of day; but she can’t help but feel conflicted on whether she should continue on with the quest, or take Lord Elrond up on his offer and remain in Rivendell. She stares at the ceiling, not wanting to get out of the bed, and weighs her options. If she goes the possibility of death increases and there is a chance they’ll all die before they even reach the mountain, not to mention the very high chance that the dragon is still alive and there’s a very slim chance that the entire company will survive. But, if she goes through with the quest, she’ll have made more friends in those months than she’s had in her entire life, even if she doesn’t make it to the end.

    On the other hand, if she stays in Rivendell the chance of death decreases and they’ll be back home in only a short amount of time. But there is also what she was thinking about before, because the Shire won’t be safe forever. Honestly there is no such thing as a safe haven, something always happens to sabotage the safety of a home. For example, the whole reason they are on this quest. Erebor was home to the Dwarves for hundreds, if not thousands of years and in a single moment it was lost. And, if she’s being honest, leaving now will make Bilbo feel guilty; like she was abandoning them after signing a contract and promising to go through with their quest.

    A knock at her door disrupts her thoughts and she sighs. “Come in!” She calls out as she rolls onto her side to face the door. Bella and Isengrim enter the room and Bilbo smiles when she sees them. Bella grins widely and shoves her brother before running and leaping onto the bed and then cuddling into her mother’s side.

    “What’s the matter, Ma?” she asks, “And don’t say ‘nothing,’ I can tell when something’s bothering you.”

    Bilbo smiles fondly at her daughter and pushes her dark hair away from her face. “I was just lost in my thoughts, Love. Thinking about our plan for tomorrow morning.”

    Bella nods and glances down at the foot of the bed where Isengrim is sitting. “We’ve come to get you for breakfast, Bofur volunteered but we thought we should do it since it’s our last day.”

    “All right, well, I’ll be a minute, just let me get dressed.” The Twins nod and they leave the room. Bilbo sits up in the bed for a moment before throwing off the covers and getting out then getting dressed. She smoothes down the front of her waistcoat and pulls on her jacket then exits the room to walk with her children to breakfast. 

    They go through breakfast as if it were any other day so not to cause suspicion, and continue with their days as usual;  So, Bilbo is sitting in the library just after dinner with Fili when Thorin approaches. “Already?” she asks.

    He nods. “The sun’s setting, Lord Elrond will need us soon.”

    “All right, Fili, you should get your brother and start packing,” Bilbo begins, “And make sure your brother also packs his things, we don’t want any delays again.”

    Fili giggles, “Yes, Auntie.” 

    After she stands from the table and leaves the library, Bilbo turns to Thorin. “Okay, are we all ready?”

    Thorin smiles warmly. “I’m glad that Fili and Kili are growing close to you,” he says. Bilbo smiles shyly and looks away.

    “It was their idea,” she says, “Kili asked.”

    The Dwarrow nods. “We should go, they’ll be needing us.”

    They leave the library and head toward the room where they met first to talk about the Moon Runes. “Ah, here they are,” Gandalf says once the two of them enter the room, “Now we may proceed.”

    “Sorry, did we keep you waiting?” Bilbo asks, “I was in the library with Fili.”

    Elrond gives her a smile, but shakes his head. “No, we weren’t waiting long.”

    “But we should get to what we came here for,” Gandalf says, “Lord Elrond, would you lead us?”

    The Elf nods and he turns and leads the way. “So, to refresh your memory, these runes were written on a Midsummer’s Eve by the light of a crescent moon nearly two hundred years ago.” They turn down a hall and come to a doorway with stairs leading down; Elrond leads them down the staircase and out into a cave open to the sky. A large crystal is perched at the very edge of the cliff, and Elrond places the map on the top of it. They all look up at the sky and watch the clouds roll along and uncover the moon, they then watch as the moonlight filters through the crystal and glows behind the parchment. Bilbo watches in amazement as the silver letters appear and glimmer on the paper. Elrond clears his throat before reading. “Stand by the grey stone when the thrush knocks, and the setting sun with the last light of Durin’s Day will shine upon the keyhole.”

    “Durin’s Day?” Bilbo mutter to herself.

    “It’s the start of the Dwarves’ new year,” Gandalf begins.

    Bilbo frowns and interrupts him. “I know what Durin’s Day is Gandalf. I was wondering why Durin’s Day was chosen. Why specifically that day and not any other?”

    “This is ill news,” Thorin states, “Summer is ending, Durin’s Day will soon be upon us.”

    “We still have time to find the entrance,” Balin says, “We have to be standing in exactly the right spot at exactly the right time. Then, and only then, can the door be opened.”

    Bilbo glances at Elrond, hoping he would remember her piece of advice. “This is your purpose? To enter the Mountain?”

    “What of it?” Thorin questions.

    Elrond hands the map back over to Thorin. “There are some who would not deem it wise.”

    “What do you mean?” Gandalf queries.

    “You are not the only guardian to stand watch over Middle Earth.” Elrond turns on his heel and goes back up the staircase. The rest of them sort of glance around at each other before following suit and when they reach the top, Elrond speaks with Gandalf before taking him away, much to the confusion of the others. 

    Bilbo sighs. “I think I’m going to head to bed,” She says, “I’m going to need as much sleep as I can get.”

    “We all need to get some sleep,” Balin agrees. They turn and move through the halls and separate to go to their respective rooms.

    Bilbo shuts her door and breathes out a heavy sigh before moving to change into her nightgown and get into bed. But she finds herself to be restless; she tosses and turns and tries her best to let sleep find her, but it doesn’t. She sits up and glares at a stray hair that dangles in front of her eyes, then throws off the covers and scoots to the edge of the bed to dangle her legs over it. She hops down and pads first toward the chair to grab her dressing gown, then to the door; she slips through her door and moves quietly through the hall down to a set of glass doors that leads to a balcony. She leaves the door open slightly and walks to the railing and looks out over it. She sees Elrond and Gandalf walking along a path and speaking.

    “I think you can trust that I know what I am doing.” She hears Gandalf say.

    “Do you?” Elrond asks, “That dragon has slept for sixty years. What will happen if your plan should fail, if you wake the beast?”

    “What if we succeed?” Gandalf retorts, “If the Dwarves take back the mountain our defenses in the East will be strengthened.”

    “It’s a dangerous move, Gandalf.”

    Bilbo agrees, there is a chance they could succeed in taking the mountain back, but there is also the, probably bigger, chance that they won’t.

    “It is also dangerous to do nothing,” The Wizard argues, “The Throne of Erebor is Thorin’s Birthright. What is it you fear?” 

    Bilbo then decides that she should leave now before she hears something she shouldn’t have, but when she turns, she sees Thorin standing behind her. He’s dressed only in his undertunic and trousers and his feet are bare, his hair is draped over his left shoulder, and his arms are crossed. “Have you forgotten?” Elrond asks, making Bilbo turn to look back at them, “A strain of madness runs deep in that family. His grandfather lost his mind; his father succumbed to the same sickness. Can you swear Thorin Oakenshield will not also fall?” Bilbo closes her eyes and sighs before looking back at the Dwarf. He is looking away, so he doesn’t see her soft, sympathetic expression and she doesn’t see his pained and fearful one for his own sanity; that is, until she reaches for his hand. He turns to face her and they stand in each other’s presence for a moment before he moves to stand beside her. She holds his right hand in both of hers and rests her head on his upper arm and they just stand there until Gandalf and Elrond’s voices fade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> Meleth nin - my love  
> gwenyn - twins
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I know there are a few little snippets of things that don't really have a purpose other than getting Bilbo and Fili and Kili to interact and to add to the word count, so they kind of appear randomly. But I wanted to end this chapter on a tender note and I think the ending is super cute. Okay, so, I see Bilbo and Thorin as this couple who got married way too young and split up, but they really want to be together now that they're older but there's so many things going on in their lives and they just can't. Like not right now, but if everything works out, they might.  
> But anyway, you can follow me on tumblr if you'd like @ blubuddi974  
> And again, please comment I'd like to know what you thought and if there are somethings that don't make sense, I'd like to clear them up. Also, I don't know if Chapter Six will be up on time because my brother is flying in for Christmas on Tuesday, and the Friday after the next happens to be the 23rd, so my house will probably be super busy and I might not be able to write these next two weeks, but I will try to get the chapter up as soon as I can.


	6. A Good Omen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I lied about the Slow Burn.  
> Also, there is a mention of suicide in the chapter, but it's very brief and almost unnoticeable. But I figured I should probably mention it.

    Thorin lies awake in the bed given to him by the Elves, unable to sleep. The message written in the Moon Letters on the map continues to repeat in his head, and it keeps him from falling asleep. He pulls himself into a sitting position and rubs at his face before glancing around the room. He barely registers it, but, he hears a soft click coming from the next room. It confuses him for a moment and he almost convinces himself that it was just in his head, but he decides it would be best if he just checked to make sure it was nothing. He slowly and carefully makes his way to the door and opens it; he glances down the hall and when he looks to the right, he sees Bilbo turning the corner. He follows her, suspicious of why she’s walking the halls so late when she should be sleeping. He follows her to a set of glass doors that lead to a balcony, she leaves the door open and he moves as softly as he can to the doors, so not to disturb her. He pulls the door open further and goes to step out, but he pauses.

    Bilbo is leaning against the railing, her braid is disheveled as if it was haphazardly put together and she has it draped over her right shoulder, her right foot hooks around the back of her left ankle, and the dressing gown she wears is untied and flapping in the soft summer breeze. He queries where she got them from, since she didn’t pack them, and notices they’re quite short, shorter than anything he’s seen her in before, and that they hug her figure closely. He then figures they most likely were owned by someone smaller than she, because nightgowns, if he remembers correctly, are meant to be loose and flowing. He steps out onto the balcony and curls his toes at the cold stone. The night was cooler than he’d expected and the breeze was causing gooseflesh to rise on his skin. He pulls his hair over his left shoulder to guard his neck against the wind and crosses his arms to keep as much body heat as he can.

    Once he steps out, he can hear the Wizard and the Elf Lord speaking. They’re talking about their quest, how dangerous it is and how it is also dangerous to do nothing. Gandalf bring Thorin’s name into their conversation, and Bilbo finally turns away and is startled by Thorin’s presence; she glances at him for a moment before looking back over the balcony. It is then that Elrond brings up the strain of madness that plagues the Line of Durin. Thorin looks away, down and to his left. It isn’t the first time someone’s mentioned it, and it certainly isn’t the first time he’s thought about it, or feared for his own sanity. He’s not his grandfather, and he isn’t his father, but he can only hope that he will not succumb to the same madness that took them both. Bilbo’s small, yet warm, hand slips into his own, startling him, and he looks at her. Her expression is soft and almost apologetic, and they stand there for a moment before he moves to stand beside her. He can now see Elrond and Gandalf walking away from them, going up a hill towards another building. Bilbo wraps her other hand around Thorin’s own and rests her head against him arm. Her presence is comforting and almost reassuring, and they stand in a comfortable silence for a long time.

    That is, until a distant scream breaks it, making Thorin’s blood run cold; Bilbo whispers her son’s name before taking off in the direction of their hall of rooms. Thorin blinks in confusion before snapping back into reality and running after the Hobbit. Bilbo had mentioned that Isengrim was prone to nightmares before they left the Shire, but they hadn’t experienced his nightmares yet. The door was opened when Thorin arrived at Isengrim’s room, he looks in through the doorway at the bed. Isengrim lies halfway in his mother’s lap, sobbing and gripping her arm that looked like it had enough force to bruise. Bilbo isn’t fazed by his grip and only continues to speak softly to him. Bella is sat at her mother’s right and is gently stroking her brother’s hair. Thorin moves closer, desperately wanting to help, but is unsure of how to. He stands awkwardly in front of the bed, trying to think of some way to assist. 

    Then he remembers what his mother used to do for him when he had nightmares, and what he and Dis used to do for Fili and Kili when they were younger and more prone to nightmares. He sits on the bed, his thigh pressed against Bilbo’s, and adjusts Isengrim’s legs to rest in his lap. He leans on his right hand and uses his left to tuck Grim’s hair behind his ear. The Halfling sniffles and looks at him with a confused expression. Thorin offers him a smile before he clears his throat and starts singing.

    He knows they won’t understand the words, but the tune is just as comforting. He’s successful in getting Isengrim to stop crying, and the Halfling wipes at his eyes and sniffles before asking him “Why are you helping me?”

    “Because I care about you,” Thorin says, “And I want to be close to you. I want to be your father, and I’m willing to wait as long as it takes for you two to accept me.” The Twins look at each other and mutter in Elvish before turning back to the Dwarf.

    “We’ll see how this quest plays out, then we’ll discuss it,” Bella says.

    Isengrim nods. “We’ll discuss everything you done over the quest and if we believe you are worthy of being our father. From now until then, we will call you by your given name and only refer to you as the Uncle of our cousins.”

    Thorin can’t help the pang of hurt in his chest that his children are rejecting him as their father for the moment, but he understands why they are and would feel the same if he were in the same situation. “Thank you, for giving me a chance.” They nod and Isengrim moves out of his mother’s lap.

    “You’ll be all right, Grim?” Bilbo asks, “Do you want me to stay with you?”

    He shakes his head. “No, Bell’s going to stay with me, I’ll be fine.”

    Bilbo smiles sadly. “Okay.” She caresses her son’s cheek before kissing both of her children’s foreheads and leading Thorin out of the room. “Thank you, for doing that. I really think it helped him. I used to sing for him, but eventually it just stopped working. There was a point a few years ago, just after my mother died, where he was just inconsolable. His nightmares were just so terrible that nothing helped. It broke my heart to see him like that and not be able to do anything.”

    “My mother used to sing it for me when I was young, and, in turn, Dis and I sang it for the boys,” The Dwarf explains, “It never failed, always putting us to sleep.”

    “What is it about, if I may ask?”

    “It’s really not about anything specifically, but the first verse translates to..

        ‘I see the moon, the moon sees me

        Shining through the leaves of the old Oak tree

        Let the light that shines on me’-”

    “Shine on the one I love,” Bilbo finishes with him. 

    She smiles softly. “That’s what I used to sing to them and what my mother sang to me”

    “It seems we have more in common than we’d originally thought.”

    Bilbo laughs. “It seems so.”

    Thorin smiles softly. “You should get some sleep.”

    “I’m not sure I’ll be able to after that scare,” Bilbo says with a laugh, “But I will try. You should to, you need sleep just as much as the rest of us do.”

    The Dwarrow nods and they walk to their respective rooms to try and sleep. But of course, Thorin finds he’s unable to sleep. He hums the tune to the song in an attempt to put himself to sleep, but find it just keeps him awake. So, instead of wasting time trying to sleep when it wouldn’t come, he makes sure he has everything prepared for their leaving.

    Just before the sun starts rising over the horizon, Thorin gathers his things and tidies the room then leaves to wake his company. They manage to leave Rivendell without causing attention to themselves, which surprises Thorin, as he’d thought there’d be more Elves around; and they’re crossing the edge of the wild by the time the sun is over the horizon. As he pauses to let Balin lead the company he can’t help but notice how Bilbo turns back to look at the Elven city as though she’ll miss it. He calls out to her, suggesting that she keep up with the company, lest she get left behind. She turns to him and nods before looking back at the city and sighing, tapping her walking stick against the ground, and turning around to follow the company. 

    As they climb out of the valley, they remember Gandalf’s advice and avoided the paths through the mountain’s that were only a deception and led to bad endings, and found their way onto the right path through the High Pass through the Misty Mountains.

    Days after leaving the valley and reaching the High Pass, they find themselves in a horrendous storm; rain pours from the sky leaving nothing even remotely damp, the company are soaked to the bone and the stone the trekked across is covered with water, making every step the company takes a slippery and dangerous one.

    Bilbo cries out when her foot slips out from under her and she starts falling toward the edge. Dwalin quickly grabs her and shoves her back into the stone and holds her there for a moment, making sure she doesn’t fall. She gives him a grateful look before continuing with shaky steps. Dwalin cries out and the company looks up, just catching the boulder hurtling towards them before it hits the mountain above them. They all press themselves against the stone to try and protect them from the falling debris.

    “This is no thunderstorm!” Balin cries, though Bilbo can barely hear him, “It’s a thunder-battle!” They all glance across the way to see a being removing itself from the mountain, then grab the top of said mountain and throwing it at the company. But they quickly learn that the giant had no interest in them, but was throwing the rock at another stone giant.

    The ground beneath them begins to rumble, breaking off bits of debris and making their already narrow walkway even narrower. Then it begins to split, separating Fili and Kili and Bilbo and her children; they all glance up in horror, realizing they were standing on another being. The giants continue to fight each other, paying no mind to the company, as if they had no idea they were there. A headbutt into the giant they were standing on sends it back into the mountain it had stood up from, allowing Thorin to lead the larger half of the company off of the giant and onto safe ground. But the smaller half of the company has to remain on the other knee of the giant, until a boulder is thrown at it’s head, knocking it clean off. The body of the giant then goes limp. Falling and sending Bilbo and the others into the mountain.

    Bilbo doesn’t register that she’s hanging from her fingertips until Bofur is calling out for her and she slips further down the mountain. Both Ori and Bofur hang their hands down for her to grab but she’s unable to reach them. She hangs there for a few moments until the back of her coat is grabbed and she’s propelled upward into the arms of the awaiting Dwarves to pull her back up. She doesn’t realize it was Thorin who saved her until he’s being pulled back up onto the cliff by Dwalin and Bella.

    The Dwarf looks down at her as she sits against the stone, breathing heavily. “You should never have come,” he says, “It was a stupid decision to let  _ Tharkûn _ convince me to let you join us. You’re not made for the Wild, I’m sending you back to Rivendell in the morning, all three of you.”

    “You can’t do that!” Bilbo argues.

    “I’m the leader of this company and you’ll do as I say,” Thorin retorts.

    “I signed the contract, I’m staying--!”

    “I don’t want you here!” The Dwarf King shouts, “We can do this quest without you.”

    Bilbo stands and marches up to him. “You’re not my King, I don’t have to listen to you. I am staying with this company whether you like it or not, because you need me and you know it. My safety and my fate are none of your concern anymore, you lost that right a long time ago.” She looks behind Thorin to look at Dwalin. “Dwalin, search the cave, to the back. Mountain caves are seldom unoccupied.” Dwalin nods and enters the cave, and Bilbo walks around Thorin to help Fili with Bombur.

    Once Dwalin deems the cave safe enough for them, the company enters and begins to set up their bedrolls. Bilbo unrolls her own and goes to sit down on it when Bella calls out to her. “Mum, do you think you could tell us a story?” she asks.

    Bilbo smiles at the four of them piled into their sleeping arrangement; a puppy pile, as the other members of the company called it. “I haven’t done that in quite some time, have I?”

    “Not since before Rivendell, I think,” FIli comments.

    “Alright, what would you like to hear?” She asks as she sits down in front of them.

    “Can you tell us Rapunzel?” Bella asks.

    “You always want to hear that one,” Isengrim groans.

    “Because it’s my favorite.”

    “Does anyone object Rapunzel?” Bilbo asks, and when the four of them shake their heads, she nods. “Right, well. This tale was originally written by Men, so all the characters in the story were human. But I decided to change them to be more inclusive for the other races.” She clears her throat and adjusts herself before starting the story. “Once upon a time, many many years ago there lived two Hobbits, one male and one female, and they longed for a child. Every night, the couple would pray to Yavanna and ask her to bring them a babe, and hope that their wish would come true. That part is very important and comes into play later on. Now, These two Hobbits lived at the very top of a hill and at the bottom of the hill behind there house was a garden. This was no ordinary garden, it was the most magnificent garden they’d ever seen; it was filled with beautiful flowers, delicious fruits and vegetables, and wonderful herbs. But, this garden was surrounded by a high wall to keep out thieves, and was owned by an evil enchantress.  The garden was known to all the Hobbits in the town, but none would ever cross the wall, in fear of the enchantress. Now, the Hobbit lass would spend a few minutes of her day, looking down the hill and over the wall at the garden, wishing her own garden could be even half as wonderful. One day, as she’s looking into this garden, she spies something. A bed of rampion, called Rapunzel--”

    “What’s a ‘rampion?’” Kili asks

    “It’s lettuce, really,” Bilbo explains, “And don’t interrupt.”

    The Dwarrow shrinks in on himself, smiling sheepishly. “Sorry, Auntie.”

    “Right, now, where was I?” The Hobbit mutters to herself, tapping her chin. “Oh, right. So the Hobbit lass saw this beautiful, fresh, green Rapunzel and immediately longed for it. She could never grow Rapunzel in her own garden, so she never knew what it tasted like. She longed for it so much that the longer she went without it, the more pale and miserable she seemed. Her husband was very alarmed by this asked her ‘What ails you, my wife?’ She replied ‘If I do not get some of that beautiful rampion, I fear I may die.’ Her husband, worrying terribly for his wife, promised her that he would get her some. So, that very night, he made his way down the hill and stood at the base of the wall, very nervously. But, he scrounged up as much courage as he could and clambered over the wall. He quickly grabbed a handful of the Rapunzel and climbed back over the wall and rushed back to his wife.

    “She took the rampion from her husband and immediately made herself a salad with it and ate it with greed. She loved it so much that once she was finished, she demanded her husband go get her some more. He tried to reason with his wife, saying he would get some for her the next night, but she wouldn’t have it. So, once again, he climbs over the wall to retrieve more Rapunzel. But, unfortunately, the enchantress was waiting for him. After his feet connected with the ground, he looked up and saw the enchantress standing before him, then froze with fear. The enchantress towered over the Hobbit with a thunderous look painting her features. ‘How dare you,’ she said, ‘How dare you come into my garden and steal my rampion like a common thief? You shall suffer for this.’” Fili and Kili’s eyes widen and the siblings look at each other before looking back at the Hobbit. “The Hobbit dropped to his knees and begged the enchantress to take mercy, explaining that his wife would have died if she didn’t get any to eat. The enchantress’ look softened and she took pity on the Hobbit, telling him he’s allowed to take as much rampion as he wished, in exchange for their first born child. THe Hobbit was hesitant, and told the enchantress he would have to speak to his wife first. So he asked his wife and she agreed, and when their child was born, the enchantress took her away and named her Rapunzel.

    “Rapunzel grew to be the most beautiful child under the sun and the enchantress decided to lock her away in a tower in the forest that had neither stairs nor door. Only a window that the enchantress used to enter and exit the tower. She would stand under the window and call out ‘Rapunzel, let down your hair!’ Rapunzel had magnificent long hair, fine as spun gold and when she heard the enchantress, Rapunzel would wind her hair onto one of the hooks outside her window and it would fall twenty ells--”

    “Twenty ells!?”

    “Kili, what did I say about interrupting?”

    “Sorry.”

    “Right, Her hair would fall twenty ells and the enchantress would climb up her hair and into the window. Many years later, a Dwarf prince happened upon the tower and heard Rapunzel singing. He desperately wished to see the mysterious singing girl but found no door into the tower, so he waited until someone entered the tower. He waited for a long while until the enchantress appeared and called up to Rapunzel and disappeared into the tower. He waited until the enchantress left and it grew dark before he called up and waited for the hair to fall down. Once it did he climbed up into the tower and finally saw Rapunzel. At first, the Hobbit was terribly frightened, as she’d never seen a Dwarf before, but when he talked to her as a friend and in a soft voice, she began to lose her fear. He told her about how her singing stirred his heart and would not let him rest until he met her. He told her he wished to see her more and they agreed that he would come in the evenings as the enchantress visited during the day.

    “The Dwarf’s dark hair and warm eyes intrigued Rapunzel and she wished she could see him more often, but knew she was unable to. But, the more he visited, the more Rapunzel began to love this Dwarf, and eventually he asked her to run away with him and be his wife and live in his kingdom, and she agreed. The next few days they planned her escape and decided the day she would. But Rapunzel made a mistake. On the day she was supposed to leave with the prince, she revealed to the enchantress that she was leaving. This caused the enchantress to become very angry and she grabbed Rapunzel’s hair and a pair of shears and cut her long beautiful hair.” Fili and Kili, as well as a few of the other Dwarves that were listening to her story instead of sleeping, gasp loudly. “The enchantress banished Rapunzel to a desert where she was to live out the rest of her life in misery away from the rest of the world. The Dwarf prince arrived at the tower that same night to retrieve Rapunzel, but once he climbed the tower, he found the enchantress instead. She lied to him and told him his love was dead, then pushed him from the tower.

    “He escaped with his life, but was blinded from the thorned bushes he landed in. He wandered the forest for the rest of his life eating nothing but roots and berries and weeping over the loss of his beloved. He roamed in misery for many years until he came across the desert where Rapunzel and the twins she’d given birth to, a boy and a girl, lived in wretchedness. One day, he heard a voice, one that was familiar to him, and he followed it.  When he approached, Rapunzel recognized him and pulled him into an embrace. As she wept and pressed her forehead to his, two of her tears fell into his eyes and they grew clear again, and he could see just as he could before. He then led his wife and their two children to his kingdom, where they were joyfully received, and they lived for a long time afterwards, happy and contented.”

    Bella and Isengrim had fallen asleep before the end of the story, but Fili and Kili are still awake, just slipping in and out of consciousness. She kisses all four of their foreheads before standing. “Nice story,” Bofur says from where he was sitting close to the entrance of the cave, “But there are a few plot holes I’d like to point out.”

    Bilbo chuckles. “Hush you, it’s a story, it’s not meant to be realistic.”

    “But you can’t deny there’s some real life in that story.”

    “No, I can’t.” Bilbo sits down beside Bofur with a groan, making the Dwarf laugh.

    “Got too used to the comforts of Rivendell, I see.”

    “Shut up.” Bofur laughs harder and Bilbo shushes him. “Stop, you’ll wake them!” The Hobbit sighs and looks back at her children. “Maybe Thorin was right. Maybe we should go back.”

    “Why in the world would you think that?”

    “We’re not made for this, Bofur. We’re too soft, too sensitive.”

    “But you’re part of the company! We need you.”

    “I’m fairly certain that there are plenty of people who would be better at this than myself.”

    “You shouldn’t talk yourself down,” Bofur scolds, “You’re much more useful than you think.”

    Bilbo snorts. “Wow, thank you, Bofur,” she says sarcastically, but with a soft smile. Her smile droops, though. “I just feel like I don’t belong here, with the company. Like I don’t have a place among you. I’m too different.”

    “Nonsense,” The Dwarf says, “You’re one of us now. You’ll feel like it eventually.” They sit in a comfortable silence before Bofur looks at Bilbo. “Bilbo?”

    “Yes?”

    “There’s something I think you should know, something that happened between us in Rivendell.”

    “What are you talking about?”

    “Nori told me that the night--”

    Bilbo shushes him. “Do you hear that?” she murmurs. Her ears twitch at the clanking sound again. “Something’s happening.” She glances down at her sword, which was safely tucked away in its scabbard, and sees the blue light filtering through the gap. She looks back at Bofur, remembering Gandalf’s words, as the cave’s floor as cracks begins to form and the sand begins to fall between them.

    “Wake up!” Thorin shouts suddenly, “Wake up!” The Company jolts awake just as the floor gives out under them.

    Bilbo doesn’t remember the fall, as most people don’t. She remembers the floor giving out, then she remembers hitting into a lot of things, and then the floor giving out again. She glances up from her place on the pile of the company and sees the tunnel slide that must have brought them down here. She then looks forward and panics when she sees a group of Goblins running towards them.  

    The Goblins grab at the Dwarves and tug them across the wooden platforms. Bilbo is confused to see that they had no interest in her, but takes this chance and drops to her knees and curls in on herself. She gets stepped on, by both heavy Dwarven boots and bare Goblin feet, and it hurts, obviously, but she suffers through until they are gone. After she’s alone, she glances around, still quite confused why they didn’t grab her along with the rest of the Company. She shuffles forward on her hands and knees to look over the edge to watch where the Goblins were taking the Company.

    After the area around her had grown quiet, she stands and pulls her sword from it’s scabbard and stares at it’s blue light, before letting her arm fall slightly and moving in the direction the Dwarves were taken. She gets across the rickety bridge and is startled by a Goblin dropping down from the area above. It charges her and starts attacking, and she desperately tries to move quick enough to block each strike. One blow knocks her off balance and the Goblin leaps onto her back and bites down on her shoulder with all its force. She cries out and tries to throw the creature off, but ends up knocking both of them off the edge of the platform. Pain blooms from the back of her head and she loses consciousness. 

 

    Isengrim thrashes against the Goblin’s grip and attempts to look around for his sister, but he is only shoved forward along with the others toward a large square platform that did not look safe  _ at all _ . Of course their situation is only worsened when the largest Goblin he’d ever seen started... singing. It was terrible to listen to because the tune was crash and not at all pleasing, and so was the Goblin’s voice. When the horrible song finally ends, the large Goblin sits back in the large chair behind him; this, and the crown upon his head, makes Isengrim assume that this must be the Great Goblin, the kings of the Goblins underneath the Misty Mountains.

    “Catchy, isn’t it?” he asks, “It’s one of my own compositions.” 

    Isengrim snorts.  _ I can certainly tell, _ he thinks to himself. 

    “That’s not a song!” he hears Balin cry from somewhere behind him, “That’s an abomination!”

    “Abominations! Mutations! Deviations!” The Goblin lists, “That’s all you’re gonna find down here.” Isengrim hisses when the Goblins begin to grab at him, taking his weapons and shoving their hands into the fold of his clothes. They throw their weapons down into one piles in front of the King, and he leaps from his seat and looms over the Company. “Who would be so bold as to come armed into my kingdom?” He demands, “Spies? Thieves? Assassins?”

    “Dwarves, Your Malevolence,” One of the Goblins corrects.

    “Dwarves?” The King asks.

    “Found ‘em on the front porch,” The same one informs with a nod.

    “Well don’t just stand there! Search them!” The Goblin King orders, “Every crack, every crevice!” The Goblins shove their hands into their clothing again, pulling out anything they could get their grubby hands on. Isengrim can see a Goblin, somehow, pull a large sack from Nori’s clothing. They calm for a moment and the Halfling stares at the Dwarf in confusion, wondering how he was able to hide such a large sack of items on his person.

    “It is my belief, Your Great Protuberance,” One says, picking up what Isengrim believes to be a candleholder, “That they are in league with Elves!”

    The Great Goblin takes the item being handed to him and turns it over to read the bottom. “Made in Rivendell,” he reads, then scoffs “Second Age, couldn’t give it away.” He then tosses the candleholder over his shoulder and Isengrim can hear it clatter against the stone as it falls further into the mountain. They all then look over to Nori, who had a slightly guilty look on his face from being caught.

    “Just a couple of keepsakes,” he mutters.

    Having enough of the current conversation, The Great Goblin demands, “What are you doing in these parts?”

    Isengrim sees Thorin begin to step forward but he’s stopped by Oin, who steps in front of him and then speaks. “Don’t worry lads, I’ll handle this.”

    “Not tricks!” the Goblin demands, pointing an accusing finger at Oin, “I want to truth, warts and all!”

    “Your going to have to speak up,” Oin says, slightly annoyed, “Your boys flattened my trumpet.” The old Dwarf holds up his trumpet and Isengrim can just barely see it, but it is definitely flat.

    The Great Goblin snarls. “I’ll flatten more than your trumpet!” he roars.

    “If you want information, I’m the one you should speak to!” Isengrim closes his eyes in frustration. His sister means well, but she’s not the brightest; and if he’s being honest, he thinks his sister is being a complete idiot with what she’s doing right now. The Goblin King squints at her and Isengrim sees his sister struggle not to squirm under his gaze 

    “You look familiar to me,” He comments.

    “Well, I can assure you we’ve never met before this very occasion,” Bella says, “So I do not know why I would look familiar. My name is Bandobras, Bandobras Took.” Isengrim notices the Goblins within earshot, including the King himself, recoil at the familiar name. “And I am a descendant of the same Bandobras Took who charged the Goblin ranks in the Battle of Greenfields nearly two hundred years ago.”

    “Bandobras Took was a Halfling!” The Goblin King spits, “You are no Halfling!”

    “We are called  _ Hobbits _ , and we’re not half of anything, thank you very much!” Bella pauses and Isengrim assumes she’s remembered that despite being raised her whole life in the Shire as a Hobbit, she still is not quite purely a Hobbit. “Well, I am, in fact, half of two different things. I am half-Hobbit and half-Dwarf. My mother is a Hobbit and is obviously also a descendant of Bandobras Took. My company of Dwarves and I were simply passing through the Misty Mountains to return home to the Blue Mountains and the Shire. I would be very please if you would let us go, else I’ll have to knock off your head like my great-great-great-great-great uncle did to the Goblin Chief Golfimbul.” Isengrim sees his sister place her hands on her hips and lift her chin, attempting to look more threatening than she actually was.

    The Goblin King bristles at the way he’s being spoken to in his own kingdom, and he sneers. “Bring up the Mangler! Bring up the Bone Breaker! Start with the Halfling!” He jabs a large, filthy finger in Bella’s direction as his minions cheer.

    “Wait!” Isengrim is surprised, and yet not, to see Thorin intervene.

    “Well, well, well! Look who it is. I knew you looked familiar, Halfling.” The Goblin smirks. “Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror. King Under the Mountain.” He bows mockingly to the exiled Dwarf King, then returns to an upright position with false realization painting his features. “But I’m forgetting, you don’t have a mountain. And you’re not a King. Which makes you nobody, really.” The Goblin King grins wolfishly. “I know someone who would pay a pretty price for your head. Just a head,” he laughs, “Nothing attached. Perhaps you know of whom I speak; an old enemy of yours. A Pale Orc, astride a White Warg.”

    “Azog the Defiler was destroyed.” Thorin’s voice is strained, and Isengrim knows this is affecting him greatly. “He was slain in battle long ago!”

    “So you think his defiling days are done, do you?” The Goblin King laughs and walks over to a smaller Goblin that was sitting in a swing. “Send word to the Pale Orc, tell him I have found his prize.” The small Goblin’s laugh was haunting, throaty and wet, and it sends a shiver down Isengrim spine.

    The torture machines that the Great Goblin ordered appear not long after he sent word to Azog, and much to the distaste of the Company, the Goblin King starts singing again. Though his song is cut short when one of the smaller Goblins picks up  _ Orcrist _ and partially unsheathes it, then throws it away from him when he recognizes the blade.

    “I know that sword!” The Great Goblin cries, scrambling backwards and away from the blade. “It is the Goblin Cleaver! The Biter! The blade that sliced a thousand necks!” He then throws out orders and soon Isengrim in on his hands and knees, new pain blooming each time he’s hit with the whip. He doesn’t cry out though, he just bites his lip and takes the pain.

    Isengrim doesn’t remember the blast or falling over, but he blinks, disoriented and glances around and his gaze settles on Gandalf. “Take up arms,” The Wizard says, but his voice sounds muffled, “Fight, fight!” Isengrim tries his best to fight against the Goblins as Gandalf leads them through the city, but he doesn’t remember much about it, as he was still quite disoriented. He only knows that his feet kept moving and so did the company. He nearly runs into someone’s back when the company halts; he looks around them to see the Goblin King, who he was sure had fallen off the platform, standing before them.

    “You thought you could escape me?” The Goblin sneers, swinging his staff around. “What are you going to do now, Wizard?” Isengrim can’t see much of Gandalf’s counter attack, but he can see the Wizard stabbing at the Goblin, and then he can see the black blood oozing from his wounds. The Great Goblin falls forward, causing the bridge to creak and crack underneath his dead weight, and then it gives out, sending the Company sliding down the cliffside to the bottom.

    Kili is the one to see the smaller Goblins rushing towards them and he cries out a warning to Gandalf, and Gandalf then picks them up and rushes them through the mountain to an exit. Isengrim can see the exit and the sunlight coming through the doorway, and then they’re out.

 

    Bilbo’s eyes flutter open and she looks around to gauge her surroundings before deciding to move. She glad she decided that, because moments later she hears wet, shuddered breathing and a creature enters her line of sight. The creature looked almost comical with it small body and large head, hands, and feet; but it was too terrifying to be called comical. The creature looks like it is starving, has almost no hair, and has pale blue eyes that reflect the light. Bilbo is grateful for the large patch of mushrooms she landed in, because they’re hiding her from this frightening creature. She startles when the Goblin reawakens and shuts her eyes tightly when the creature picks up a large rock and starts beating the Goblin with it. She opens one eye when the creature stops shouting and the sound of dragging fills her ears.

    She waits not only until the two are out of sight, but until she can no longer hear the dragging. Then, she removes herself from the mushrooms and grabs her sword and grips it tightly, then starts moving forward. She startles again when she steps down and feel an ice cold ring of metal make contact with the sole of her foot. She crouches and picks up the small golden ring, then shrugs and puts it into her pocket, almost without thinking. She then stands and continues forward, slowly making her way through the tunnel, and then the narrow tunnel opens into what seems to be a dark, subterranean lake. She can see both the Goblin and the horrid creature on a stone island in the middle of the lake, and the creature is singing to itself as it bludgeons the Goblin to death. It’s singing voice is almost the same as it’s speaking, but both of them are awful to listen to. She tucks herself behind some boulders and notices her sword starts flickering, and then stops glowing all together. She looks at it oddly, then figures the Goblin was the only was close to her and now it has died.

    She sits in silence for a moment before the creature drops down in front of her, and she barely manages to stop herself from screaming. “Bless us and splash us, precious, that’s a meaty mouthful!” She places the tip of her sword in the hollow of the creature’s throat and it coughs something awful, sounding like  _ gollum _ , so that is what she decided to call it.

    “Back,” Bilbo demands, “Stay back. I’m warning you! Don’t come any closer!”

    Gollum backs away from the blade. “It’s got an Elfish blade, but it’s not and Elfs, not and Elfs, no. What is it, precious? What is it?”

    Bilbo looks confused for a moment, because she’s not sure who Gollum is calling ‘precious,’ but finds the thought that he would be calling her ‘precious’ disturbing. “My name is Bilbo Baggins.”

    “Bagginses? What is a Bagginses, precious?” There was that precious again.

    “I’m a Hobbit, from the Shire.”

    The creature laughs. “Oh! We like Goblinses, Batses, and Fishes, but we hasn’t tried Hobbitses before!”  _ We? _ Bilbo wonders,  _ what does it mean by we?  _ Gollum moves closer, snarling. “Is it soft? It is juicy?”

    Bilbo threatens it with the sword again. “Now! Keep your distance! I will use this if I have to!” Gollum snarls again and Bilbo points her sword at it again. “I don’t want any trouble! Do you understand? Just show me the way to get out of here, and I’ll be on my way!”

    “Why?” the creature queries, “Is it lost?”

    “Yes! Yes, and I want to get unlost as soon as possible.”

    “Oh! We knows, we knows safe paths for Hobbitses; safe paths in the dark!” Bilbo is startled by the next sudden change in demeanor. “Shut up!”

    “I didn’t say anything,” Bilbo responds.

    “Wasn’t talking to you!” Bilbo blinks, confused, and the creature starts speaking again. “Yes, we was, precious, we was.”

    Bilbo again, blinks in confusion, then figures the creature must have some sort of split personality disorder, and talks to itself as if it were another person. She’s only known one other person with that disorder. He was a distant cousin on her father’s side and would go by two different names, and you would never know which one you were going to interact with, the rude one or the polite one. Bilbo only encountered the rude personality once when she was about 22 and the things he said were absolutely horrendous. They weren’t about her, but about another Hobbit she didn’t know very well. And she’s only seen him talk to himself once. She’s gone into the parlor where he was sitting and could hear him talking to himself in two different voices. He committed suicide when Bilbo was 24, and the note mentioned how he felt like he didn’t belong and that his rude personality had pushed him into doing it, telling him no one would care and that he wouldn’t be missed. His parents and siblings were broken. They knew how to interact with both of his personalities and had grown to adore both of them, even though the rude was was… well rude.

    “Look, I don’t know what your game is,” She begins, but the creature interrupts.

    “Games!” he gasps, leaping up onto the rock he was sitting behind. “Oh we loves games, doesn’t we precious?” He looks down to where he was just sitting behind the rock before looking back at Bilbo. “Does it like games? Does it? Does it like to play?” It breathes excitedly before reciting off a riddle.

_ What has roots as nobody sees, _

_ Is taller than trees. _

_ Up, up, up it goes _

_ And yet, never grows? _

    Bilbo pauses, before answering. “The Mountain.”

    Gollum laughs. “Oh, let’s have another one. Yes, do it again. Ask us.” It’s shoulders bunch up and it’s pupils constrict, and Bilbo assumes that the other personality is speaking. “No! No more Riddles!” It leaps down from the rock and Bilbo moves away from it, keeping her sword high. “Finish it off, finish it now!” It coughs twice again before rushing towards Bilbo.

    “No! No, I want to play. I really do.” She says, seeing the shyer personality taking over. “I can see you are very good at this. So, why don’t we have a game of riddles? Just you and me?”

    The creature nods, moving closer to Bilbo and she fights to stay put and not move away. “Yes, just us.”

    “If I win, you show me the way out.”

    The creature nods and the other personality comes back and growls before turning its head to face the other way. “And if it loses?” she hears it asks, “What then?” The softer personality then replies, “If it loses, precious, then we eats it!” Bilbo finds it not too much comforting, but still comforting nonetheless that the creature was, in fact, not calling her ‘precious.’ It turns around and looks at Bilbo with a wide smile. “If Baggins loses, we eats it whole.” it then shrugs and it’s smile stays in place. 

    Bilbo thinks for a moment, thinking hard about the decision she’s about to make. If she agrees, there is a fifty-fifty chance that she’ll either lose and die or win and escape; and if she doesn’t, there is a much higher chance that the creature will become angry and attack her and kill her. So, “Fair enough.” She sheathes her sword and places her hands on her hip.

    “Well, Baggins first.”

    The Hobbit thinks for a moment before speaking

_ Thirty white horses on a red hill, _

_ First they champ, _

_ Then they stamp, _

_ Then they stand still. _

    Gollum thinks for a long moment, before furrowing it’s brow and answering, “Teeth?” Bilbo sighs, but then again, it was a simple one. Most fauntlings could get that one. The creature laughs and then turns to Bilbo. “But we, we only have nine.” It bares its teeth at her and snarls before speaking again. “Our turn.”

    They each speak four more riddles, and answer each one. Bilbo almost had lost at Gollum’s last riddle which the answer was Time. She knew that this Gollum was the scarier personality and that the shy one had gone. “Last Question, last chance,” it says. Bilbo sighs and wags her finger at the creature, trying to think of a new riddle, a difficult one. “Ask us a question, ask us. Ask us!”

    “Alright, just a moment.” She absentmindedly sticks her hand inside her pocket and fiddles with the ring. What she next mumbles is not meant for Gollum to hear, but he hears is anyway and believes it to be Bilbo’s riddle. “What have I got in my pocket?” she says.

    “Well that’s not fair. That’s not fair! It’s against the rules!” He throws down a stone and Bilbo laughs nervously, it was obvious that that stone was meant for her whether or not he got the question right or wrong. “Ask us another one!” he says, pouting and looking away.

    Question. That is what Gollum said. He didn’t say that it had to be a riddle, just a question. She points at him, careful not to laugh with her newfound loophole. “No, you said ‘ask me a question.’ Well that is my question. What have I got in my pocket?”

    Gollum leaps down from the boulder and growls. “It must give us three guesses, precious, it must give us three.” He holds up two fingers, but Bilbo chooses not to comment on it.

    “Three guesses. Very well then, guess away!”

    “Handses!”

    Bilbo quickly pulls her hand out of her pocket and holds it up. “Wrong. Guess again.”

    Gollum makes a series of frustrated noises and lists off things that were usually found in his own pockets: fishbones, Goblins’ teeth, wet shells, bats’ wings. But Bilbo doesn’t count those as guesses as it didn’t say them to her. He beats his hands on the stone, trying to think. “Knife!” he cries out. “Oh shut up!”

    “Wrong again,” she says, holding her sword out in front of her, “Last guess.”

    “String!” Says the softer personality. “Or nothing!” says the scarier one.

    “Two guesses at once!” Bilbo says, “Wrong both times.” Gollum lets out a long whine and lets itself fall onto the stone. “Come on, then. I won the game. You promised to show me the way out.”

    Gollum pulls itself off the ground but doesn’t face the Hobbit. “Did we say so, precious? Did we say so?” The creature slowly turns to face Bilbo, and her fear gets lodged in her throat and she points her sword at it. “What has it gots in its pocketses?”

    “That’s no concern of yours,” She says, trying to be brave, “You lost.”

    “Lost? Lost?” Bilbo is confused at the look on it’s face, it’s a mixture of panic and confusion and it looks for something. “Where is it? Where is it?”

    The Hobbit watches on in horror as the creature panics and searches for an unknown item; searching through the bones and dried skin on the stone and splashing in the water. Bilbo sticks her hand in her pocket and pulls out the ring before hiding it behind her back and asking, “What have you lost?”

    “Mustn’t ask us! Not it’s business!” Gollum coughs again and curls in on itself. It mutters to itself before turning around and staring at Bilbo with a look of realization, which really quickly turns to one of anger. “You stole it? You stole it!” It screeches and throws a rock at Bilbo, which she barely dodges. She turns around and runs back into the maze of stone with the creature chasing after her. She turns down a narrower path and tries her best to squeeze through the small gap as Gollum walks passed the path, but pauses and goes back and spots her. She tries harder to fit through, causing most of the brass buttons on her waistcoat to pop right off, and she falls through the gap. The ring flies up through the air and Bilbo reaches up to catch it, and by some miracle the ring slides onto her middle finger.

    She scurries backwards when Gollum leaps through the gap, but is bewildered when it seems that Gollum is unable to see her. As she looks around her, she notices the color is muted and the sound is slightly distorted. And that Gollum seems to be moving slower despite being a very quick footed creature. She stands slowly on her shaking legs and gets used to standing before following close behind Gollum. She assumes that the creature will go towards the exit as it believes she’s escaped and wants to follow after her.

    She thanks the Gods that she was right, but Gollum was now blocking her exit. She gasps and reaches forward when she sees Gandalf and the Company running through the tunnels toward the exit,  _ they’re alive _ ! She sighs in disappointment because all too quickly they’re gone again. Bilbo huffs and approaches Gollum from behind. She puts her sword up to his neck and pulls it back, getting ready to swing. But Gandalf’s words from when he gave her the sword ring in her mind. She puts her sword away and steps back before running and leaping over the creature and darting toward the exit.

    She dashes down the mountain side, after the Company, her feet moving faster than she thought herself able. When she finally reaches the company, they were discussing where they’d last seen her.

    “I think I saw her slip away when they first collared us,” Nori informs.

    “What happened exactly?” the Wizard demands, “Tell me!”

    “It doesn’t matter what happened!” Thorin shouts, his voice tight. “If she’s not with us, she’s probably still in that mountain, dead or dying.”

    “Then we have to go back!” Bella cries.

    “We can’t! It’s a labyrinth in that mountain, we’ll never find her,” The Dwarf King says, “We cannot afford to go back for someone who is probably already dead. Even if we did find her, Goblins eat people, her body would be in pieces and I could never put either of you through seeing your mother like that. If it is your wish, I will send you back to Rivendell with Gandalf and you will never have to see me or any of this company again if you do not want to. I’m very sorry, but your mother is gone.”

    Bilbo waits a moment before pulling off her ring just to watch to company. She watches Thorin reach for Bella’s arm, but she isn’t looking at him, so she turns to fall into her brother’s arms. Bilbo steps behind a tree and yanks off her ring before stepping out. “No, she isn’t.” Her children cry out and run towards her, enveloping her in a tight hug.

    “Don’t you ever make us worry about you like that ever again,” Isengrim says.

    Bilbo chuckles. “I’ll try not to.” She breathes deeply before turning to Thorin. “I’m very sorry I caused everyone such worry.”

    “I was afraid you died or abandoned us,” he says softly.

    “I would never abandon this Company. If I’m being honest, I do miss Bag End. I miss my books, and my armchair, my garden. That’s where I belong, where we belong.” She glances back to her children before looking back to the Dwarf. “That’s Home. And that’s why I would never abandon you. Because you don’t have one, a home. It was taken from you. And I will help you take it back if I can.” Thorin looks at her with a soft look of gratitude and possibly adoration, and she offers him a smile. 

    Howling, too close for comfort, startles the company and Bilbo reaches for Thorin’s arm. “Out of the frying pan,” The Dwarf says.

    “And into the fire,” Gandalf finishes, “Run, run!” And they follow his instruction, running down the mountain side away from the howling. The riderless Wargs catch up to the company rather quickly and Gandalf orders them into the trees at the edge of the cliff. Bilbo tugs at her sword which is embedded in a Warg skull and panics when she sees the area in front of her is empty. But, she manages to scramble up into the nearest tree before the rest of the Wargs are able to tear her to pieces.

    The Wargs with riders arrive not long after the lone beasts and Bilbo looks down at the Pale Orc who sits atop a white Warg and she can only assume that he is Azog. The Orc begins speaking, in Black Speech of course, so she doesn’t understand what he’s saying, but she can only assume he’s ordering his henchmen to attack them. Which is exactly what happens. The Wargs attack the trees with so much strength, the roots of the trees are pulled from the earth and this forces the Company to leap from tree to tree to avoid hitting the ground; until, that is, they’re all at the one tree at the very edge of the cliff. 

    Gandalf, with his quick thinking, grabs a pine cone and lights it on fire and throws it down at the Wargs around the base of the tree, causing the dry grass to engulf in flames and the Wargs to retreat. He tosses down a lit pine cone to the others and they light more pine cones to throw at their enemy. The company cheers at their small victory until the tree lurches backwards, finally giving out under the Company’s weight. Bilbo struggles to hold on to the tree as it halts at a horizontal axis. The next few moments, Bilbo doesn’t know how to describe.

    She sees Thorin stand and pull Orcrist from it’s scabbard. She watches in horror as her idiot Dwarf begins walking down the tree trunk towards the flames and the Orcs. He breaks into a run and Bilbo can’t help but watch. She, as well as a few others, cry out when Azog’s Warg leaps from the rock and knocks Thorin down. Thorin stands again, only to be knocked back down, this time by Azog’s axe. Azog then approaches Thorin and nudges his Warg, who then picks up Thorin with it’s mouth, digging its teeth into his body. She can’t let this idiot go down like this, she won’t let this happen. She slowly stands on the trunk, ignoring her children’s protests, and pulls her sword, its blue glow shining brightly. It is when Thorin is thrown by the Warg that Bilbo finally takes a deep breath and runs down the tree.

_     It’s simple physics _ , she assures herself,  _ All I need to do is run fast enough to get enough momentum to knock the Orc over. Then I need to kill it, quickly _ . She surprises herself by being successful at knocking over the Orc who was preparing to take Thorin’s head, and drives her sword into its chest multiple times making sure it is dead. She then jumps up and stands in front of Thorin’s unconscious body to protect him. Azog speaks and Bilbo can only assume it’s a command to kill her as his henchmen then approach her. To her surprise, the Company escapes the tree much faster than she’d thought and attack the Orcs.

    Their fight is cut short when the Eagles take them away from the flaming mountain side. Bilbo did not enjoy being picked up by Eagle talons and the being dropped an unknown height onto another Eagle’s back. But, she was struck by the majesty of the Eagles; she’s only ever read about them and had never seen anything but drawings, and experiencing them for real was unimaginable and indescribable. The Eagles fly them out of the Misty Mountains well into morning, and they drop them off on a great stone, shaped like a bear head, that Gandalf called the Carrock.

    Bilbo slides off the Eagle and rushes toward where Gandalf was kneeling over Thorin. She hears Thorin murmur something and Gandalf replies, “Bilbo is here, she quite safe.” Bilbo lets out a large sigh when Thorin is able to stand on his own, and her lips tug into a soft smile.

    “What were you doing?” Thorin questions, “You nearly got yourself killed.”

    Bilbo frowns deeply. “So did you! That was the stupidest thing you’ve done so far on this quest.” She takes a breath, about to scold the Dwarf King more, but is stopped when he embraces her.

    “I’m so glad you’re safe and unharmed.”

    “No thanks to you.”

    Thorin chuckles. “I am sorry, and I know it was a foolish mistake.”

    “I suppose that’s why we’re perfect for each other, we’re both complete idiots.” They both share a chuckle, and Thorin pulls away, checking Bilbo over for any injuries.

    “I’m sorry I wanted to send you back.”

    “No, I would’ve wanted to do the same,” Bilbo admits, “I’m not a hero, or a warrior.” She smiles and looks up at Gandalf. “Not even a burglar.” Bilbo looks back at Thorin and confirms that the look he gave her the night before was in fact one of adoration. Thorin then glances over Bilbo’s shoulder and stops, then moves around her to walk forward. Bilbo turns around to follow his gaze, and that when she sees it. “Is that what I think it is?” She asks following the Dwarf to look out at the horizon.

    “Erebor,” Gandalf informs, “The Lonely Mountain, the last of the great Dwarf Kingdoms of Middle Earth.”

    The Hobbit smiles softly at the feeling of Thorin slipping his hand into her own and she squeezes his hand, but she doesn’t look at him. “Our Home,” The Dwarf King says.

    The twittering of a bird flying over their heads catches their attention. “A Raven!” Oin exclaims, “The birds are returning to the Mountain.”

    “That, my dear Oin, is a thrush,” Gandalf corrects.

    “But we’ll take it as a sign,” Thorin says. Bilbo feels his eyes on her and she looks up at him and they smile warmly at each other. “A good omen.”

    Bilbo tears her gaze from the Dwarf King, but she feels his gaze linger on her for a moment more. “You’re right, I do believe the worst is behind us.”

    And there they stand, a company of thirteen Dwarves, a Hobbit, two twin Dwobbits, and a Wizard; standing upon a great stone bear head called the Carrock and looking upon their destination, the Lonely Mountain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and as you probably could've seen, I didn't make Thorin as much of an assbag as he was in the film. He still kind of is, but not as much. Don't get me wrong, I love Thorin Oakenshield and he deserved better than what he got, but he was still kind of a douchewad in the first film, and the last one, but the first one was of his own accord. But uh, yeah, I kinda lied about the slow burn. I meant for it to be slow, but it was not.  
> Also, this chapter was almost exactly the same as the original final chapter of AUJ I did before I decided to write it, just longer and with more Bilbo. And I decided to write the Goblin's thing in Third Person Limited to Isengrim because I hadn't done that in the rewrite I think. I lose track of all these chapters. I'm also trying to make it written in TPL instead the other Third Person that I can't remember the name of where the narrator know everyone's thoughts rather than only a single person. I could look it up, but I'm lazy, that's why I make my own canon, like Goblin's eat people. I don't know if that's true, but I wanted it to be because what else do they eat?  
> Anyway, you can follow me on tumblr if you wish, @ blubuddi974  
> And because this is the end of film one, I will be taking a bit of a break to rewrite the DOS chapters, I'll make sure to have at least the first two rewritten, when I post the next chapter. DOS won't take as long, because those ones I like, I just want to put it more in Bilbo's POV rather than the Twins, like I did with these chapters. Bilbo/Thorin is the main pairing, but I never really bothered with writing in their POVs. I just mainly kept it as Bella's POV but I'm not sure why. And I also want to change or add a few things. to them to make them longer. Little fun fact, this chapter has 9600+ words. I didn't intend for that to happen, but I needed to get the entire ending of the film into this one chapter so it made it a good bit longer than the others which usually range from 65 hundred to 8 thousand.


	7. Queer Lodgings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greetings friends, it's been a very long while since I posted for this fic. I apologize for that, but the first few months of 2017 have been quite hectic. The last chapter was posted before Christmas of last year because my brother was visiting us and I wouldn't have had time to write. Then Sherlock series four aired during January, and I couldn't do anything but theorize and panic because of it. Then for some reason I got really deep into playing the Sims 4, like it was all I did from the moment I woke up to when I went to bed for like weeks, it was super weird. And then I was just in this weird little rut where I just couldn't write anything. But I'm back, there's a lot of copy and paste in this because I actually liked these ones that I wrote, I'm just adding things, taking away some things, making them all longer, just improving them really. But because I copy and pasted most of this chapter, the mentions of infanticide are still in here, so that's just a warning.

    As the Company makes their way down the steep steps of the Carrock, Bilbo can faintly hear her daughter complaining. She isn’t surprised, of course, Bella had always been able to find something to complain about. She doesn’t bother listening to her complaints and just continues down the stairs carefully. Her fatigue is finally hitting her this morning, as she’s been awake for nearly two full days now. She manages to get down the staircase without missing a beat, but as soon as she steps onto the flatland, she stumbles and bumps into Dori.

    “Oh dear, I’m sorry, Dori,” she says.

    “Are you alright, Bilbo?” The Dam asks.

    “I’m just tired,” the Hobbit answers, “I’ve been awake for so long and I’m just now feeling it.” She rubs at her eyes and sighs. “I just hope we stop soon.”

    “I’m afraid we won’t be until nightfall,” Dori says with a sad smile, “Wargs move quickly and we need to get as far away from them as possible before we stop.” The Hobbit lets out a high pitched whine and rubs her eyes again. Dori hesitates but asks Bilbo, “Would it be alright if I carried you? It wouldn’t be any trouble, really, we Dwarrow handle fatigue quite well. You could get some sleep and we could still keep moving.”

    Bilbo worries her lip, wanting to agree but also not wanting to burden Dori with her weight. “Would it really not be any trouble?” Dori shakes her head, smiling softly. “Alright, then.” Dori stops and crouches slightly and Bilbo hops up onto her back. 

    It isn’t long before Bilbo’s head rests on Dori shoulder and her grip on her right wrist loosens until her arms dangle limply over Dori’s shoulders. A couple hours pass as they continue on, and Dori seems to begin to struggle to keep Bilbo on her back, so Dwalin approaches and wordlessly lifts the Hobbit off the Dam’s back and cradles her to his chest. Dori gives him a grateful look and they continue forward.

    Bilbo finally awakens during the evening. Her eyes flutter open and she glances up at the sky; the sun is in the opposite side of the sky than it was when she fell asleep. “Will we be stopping soon?” She wonders aloud.

    Dwalin looks down at her. “You’re awake.” She nods and repeats her question. “Most likely we’ll stop before the sun fully sets.” The Hobbit nods again and glances around at the company, counting off all of them to assure herself that everyone is still present. “Do you want me to put you down?”

    “Not unless you want to, I’m quite comfortable here.” Dwalin nods and looks up to watch where he’s walking before adjusting Bilbo in his arms. 

    Not long after Bilbo wakes, Gandalf decides it would be a good time to stop and Dwalin places the Hobbit back on her feet. “Thank you, for carrying me,” She says, “I should also thank Dori, wherever she is. Was I too heavy for her?”

    Dwalin shakes his head. “No, it was the way she was carrying you; it wasn’t very comfortable.”

    Bilbo nods. “Well, thank you, again.” The Dwarf nods and Bilbo turns to find Dori so that she could thank her as well. After she thanks the Dam, she turns and glances over the company; A few were sitting around Oin waiting for his to examine their wounds, Isengrim was checking over his sister and his cousins, and Thorin was talking with Gandalf towards the edge of camp. Just by glancing at him, she could see he was favoring his left side, so she approaches them. “Hello, I’m sure this conversation is important, but it seems Thorin still needs medical attention. Could this wait until he’s had it?” She glances between the two of them with a stern look, silently informing them that there was only answer to that question. The two of them glance at each other before nodding. “Thank you.” The Hobbit leads the Dwarf King toward the small fire and sits him down. “Alright, well there hasn’t been any bleeding, so at least your armour is good for something. But there is most likely bruising, and you might have a few cracked ribs.” She helps his out of his armour and tunics to reveal his bare chest. The bruises are dark and follow the dentition of the Warg, but at least they didn’t break the skin. The Hobbit looks over him as a whole and notices his short breaths, then instructs him to breathe deeply. He tries, but grabs at his ribs and hisses in pain. Bilbo hums and glances around the camp before her eyes settle on Gandalf. “Alright, you can redress now, I have to talk to Gandalf. Can you dress yourself, or do you need help?”

    “I think I can do it myself,” Thorin responds, reaching for his undertunic.

    Bilbo nods. “Right.” She turns on her heel and makes her way to Gandalf. “Gandalf.”

    Gandalf turns to look at the Hobbit. “Yes, Miss Baggins?”

    “Do you know of any neutral third party that we might be able to stay with? Most of us are tired and some need medical attention, and we have none of Oin’s medical supplies. We  _ need _ some place to stay even if it is only for a few days.”

    The Wizard hums and glances around the area. “There  _ is _ a house..” he says “Not far from here.”

    Bilbo sighs. “Whose house?”

    “His name is Beorn, he's a skinchanger. Sometimes he's a huge black bear, sometimes he is a great strong man with huge arms and a great beard,” Gandalf informs, “He lives in a great wooden house in an oak-wood. He keeps horses and cattle that speak and work with him; he doesn't eat them, nor does he hunt or eat any wild animals. He keeps hives of great fierce bees, and lives mostly on cream and honey." Bilbo nearly swoons at the mention of honey, now wishing greatly for warm bread slathered in it.

    “So he’ll help us?” She queries.

    “There is no saying what he will decide, he’s not very fond of Dwarves. He will help us or he will kill us.”

    “I suppose all we have is hope, then.” Gandalf nods slowly. “How long will it take to reach the house?”

    “A few days, at the most,” The Wizard answers, “It won’t take us long.”

    Bilbo nods. “Right, I suppose we’ll head out in the morning?” Gandalf confirms and Bilbo nods again before saying “I think it would be best not to tell them that Beorn in a skinchanger just yet.” She then turns on her heel and informs Gandalf, “I’ll tell Thorin.” She returns to where Thorin is sitting and takes a seat beside him. “Gandalf has somewhere where we can go.”

    “Where?”

    “He just said there was house not far from where we’re at, I’m not entirely sure where exactly it is,” Bilbo answers.

    “Whose house?” The Dwarf King asks, “Are they friend or foe?”

    “Neither, he’ll help us or kill us. Or so Gandalf says,” The Hobbit responds, “But I would definitely trust Gandalf’s word.”

    “I would as well,” he says, “What other choice do we have?”

    “None, I believe,” Bilbo replies, “We need to rest for a few days, and we need more supplies. Oin’s lost his med kit, we don’t have any food or water skins, or any of our other things. And Gandalf seems almost sure that Beorn will help us.”

    “Almost?”

    “He did say help or kill us.”

    Thorin nods. “How long will it take to get there?” he queries.

    “A few days,” she answers, “Hopefully sooner rather than later. You need medical attention but we don’t have the supplies.” Bilbo lets out a sudden yawn. “Oh, excuse me,” she says while covering her mouth.

    “You should sleep,” Thorin states.

    “Probably, but I still need to check on the twins. I’ll sleep when I’m convinced I’m not needed for the moment,” She replies, “You need to sleep as well, it’ll help your body heal.” He nods and she stands before walking to where the twins and their cousins were sitting. 

    “Hi Mum,” Isengrim says.

    “Hello, is everyone doing all right?” She asks.

    Kili nods. “We’re all just fine, a few scrapes and bruises, but overall, we’re doing well.”

    Bilbo lets out a sigh of relief. “That’s good, very good indeed. It seems that the only one of the company who needs medical attention is Thorin.”

    “Where will be going next?” Fili asks, “We need to fill up on supplies after the Goblins.”

    “Gandalf’s leading us to a neutral party, he hopes that they’ll help us.”

    Fili’s brow furrows. “ _ Tharkûn  _ isn’t positive that they’ll help us?”

    “There’s a very hard emphasis on ‘neutral,’ I’m afraid,” Bilbo explains, “There’s no for sure outcome. He’ll either help us or turn us away.” Bilbo decides not to inform them of Gandalf’s actual words, she didn’t want to spring that on them just after they escaped from creatures trying to kill them. “It will take a few days for us to reach the house, so you should get some rest. Yavanna knows we all need it.” She presses a kiss to the top of each of their heads before turning and finding a place to lie down. It takes her a moment to fall asleep, but after a few minutes of shifting and trying to get comfortable on the hard dirt, she finally slips into a deep, dreamless sleep.

    When she wakes, it feels like she’d only been sleeping for a matter of minutes and not hours. She sits up and rubs at her eyes then blinks a few times before glancing around at the camp. Most of the company were still sleeping, aside from Thorin, Dwalin, Fili, and herself; the three Dwarves were speaking to Gandalf in hushed voices as to not wake anyone. She glances at the sky and figures it couldn’t be passed 6 am, for the sun was only just starting to make its way over the horizon. She rises to her feet and approaches the four, and as she gets closer, she realizes they’re arguing.

    “What are you arguing about?” she yawns, startling the three Dwarves. She catches Gandalf’s lips quirk into a small smirk for a split second, before it disappears.

    “Try walking a tad louder, would you, lass?” Dwalin says, “Quiet as a mouse, you are.”

    “My apologies, I didn’t realize I was being so quiet,” The Hobbit replies, “But I will ask again, what were you arguing about?”

    “Gandalf was telling us that our potential help is a skinchanger, and one that doesn’t like Dwarrow,” Dwalin growls.

    Bilbo sighs. “Gandalf I thought I said that telling them wasn’t a good idea.”

    “You knew?”

    “Of course I did. Now, Gandalf?”

    “I didn’t think they would react this badly.”

    Bilbo rolls her eyes. “You didn’t think that Dwarves would not react badly to hearing that the person they are trying to get help from is not only a very large man who doesn’t like Dwarrow, but one who can turn into a bear? This is what you’re telling me.” Gandalf clears his throat and tries not to break Bilbo’s gaze. “That’s what I thought.” She then turns around and speaks to the Dwarves behind her. “I suppose you should start waking the others, we’ve got a few days travel before we reach Beorn’s.”

    “We’re not still going there, are we?” Fili asks.

    “Of course we are. We still need assistance, and Beorn is our only option. Unless you want to ask the Elves of Mirkwood for help?” Dwalin grimaces, as does Thorin, but Fili still only remains concerned. Bilbo sighs and places a comforting hand on Fili’s arm. “I’m not going to let anything happen to any of you, okay? Everything will fine.” Fili nods and Bilbo smiles. “That’s my girl, now go wake your brother.”

    They finally managed to leave their camp before the sun was fully over the horizon, and let Gandalf lead them the way toward Beorn’s home. The few days to reach the skinchanger’s home are quite drawn out and boring, so the company does what they can to entertain themselves. The Twins and Fili and Kili play different games including jumping on each other’s backs and racing to a specific landmark in the not-too-far distance. They mostly travel in open fields, sticking close to the forest edge for an easy cover, but eventually, the forest ends and they are stuck to be in the middle of a field. Despite that, Gandalf leads on and they eventually start to come across large patches of flowers that appeared to be planted together; large bees, the size of one's thumb, were bumbling around from flower to flower. "Nearly there," the Wizard says, "we're just on the edge of the bee-pastures."

    After a while they come across the house. "You had better wait here," Gandalf says, "I'll call or whistle for you to come out, but only in pairs, mind you, about five minutes in between. Miss Baggins, you will come with me; Belladonna and Isengrim will come after. Bombur is the fattest and will do for two, so you'd best come last." Gandalf turns and calls for Bilbo to follow him. The two of them wander through the gate and come across two very sleek horses, who trot up to them and stare intently before turning and going away. Bilbo looks up at Gandalf, a quizzical look on her face "They've gone to tell their master of the arrival of strangers," Gandalf informs, and Bilbo nods in understanding.

    They soon reach the courtyard, where Beorn is standing, leaning on a large axe, although proportionate to the large man, who could very well be ten feet tall; Bilbo was quite sure she could walk through the man's legs without needing to duck to avoid the hem of his tunic. "Here they are!" Beorn says to his horses, "They don't look dangerous, you can be off." He laughs and puts down his axe before coming forward to tower of the two. "Who are you and what do you want?" he asks,

    "I am Gandalf, Gandalf the Grey" The Wizard introduces himself, completely oblivious to the fact that Bilbo stepped behind his robes to hide from the sight of the intimidating man.

    "Never heard of him," the man growls.

    "I am a Wizard, perhaps you've heard of my good cousin Radagast the Brown who resides near the Southern Border of Mirkwood"

    "Yes, not a bad fellow as Wizards go. I used to see him now and again," Beorn comments, "Now, what do you want?"

    "To tell you the truth, we've lost our luggage and are rather in need of some help." Gandalf turns to point back the way they came, revealing Bilbo.

    "Who is this little lady?" Beorn questions, kneeling to frown at the Hobbit.

    "This is Miss Baggins, of the Shire," Gandalf introduces, "A Hobbit from a good family and unimpeachable reputation." Bilbo bows, painfully aware of the missing buttons on her waistcoat. "But, we would like some help, or at the least, some advice. We've had a rather time with Goblins in the mountains."

    "Goblins?" The large man repeats, "What did you go near them for?"

    "We didn't mean to," Bilbo says, "they surprised us at night through a pass in the mountains and- well it's quite a long story"

    "Then you'd better come inside and tell it, if it does not take all day."

    Gandalf tells their story, recapping everything that's happened on their journey, having the rest of the company arrive in pairs in intervals, until lastly Bombur arrives and the story is finished. "A very good tale," Beorn comments, "The best I've heard in a long time. If all beggars could tell such good stories, they might find me kinder. Of course, you may be making this all up, but you deserve a supper for the story all the same," The large man smiles at Bilbo, and pokes her thin stomach, “Especially you, Little Bunny.”

    Beorn leads the company into his home, Bilbo still fuming over being called a bunny, and they all sit at the large dining table. Their meal in brought in my large grey dogs and white sheep. They eat and sing and tell stories before Gandalf announces it was time for them to sleep and reminds them not to leave the house until the sun is up. They find that beds had been set up for them while they were eating, and they tuck themselves in and sleep.

    When they wake in the morning, both Gandalf and their host are missing, so they go about their day, being waited on by Beorn's animals. After breakfast, most of the company goes about their day, but Bilbo stays seated at the table with Bofur and Dwalin; Bilbo sitting next to Dwalin and Bofur sitting across the table from them. They observe the rest of the company from the high-seated table, most of the are sitting on the floor doing various tasks. Some are redoing their braids, Bifur is carving something, and Thorin is looking at the large chess set.

    “Do you know how to play?” Bella asks, surprising Thorin, “Grim and I play it all the time at home and in Rivendell, but it gets boring when you win all the time.”

    “Excuse me?” Isengrim asks from across the room, “You do not win all the time.”

    Bella ignores her brother and continues speaking to Thorin, “ _ Do _ you play?” 

    Thorin nods, “I don’t play very often, but I know the mechanics.”

    “Fantastic!” Bella climbs onto one of the chairs and Thorin sits in the opposite one.

    “Its nice to see them interact,” Dwalin says, “I mean, Thorin has no clue really what it’s like to be a father, but he’s not doing terribly.”

    Bilbo hums her agreement “The twins are trying their best too, they don’t really know anything else but me. My father died when they were ten, so they don’t really remember him too well, and my mother died when they were eighteen, but she wasn’t a parental figure for them, just grandmother who loved them dearly and got them out of trouble.” Bilbo sighs. “I was Mom and Dad for the longest time. A lot of people told me I wouldn’t be able to be a single parent, I like to think I proved them wrong.”

    Dwalin places a friendly hand on her shoulder, “You did, they’re good kids.”

    Bilbo smiles. “Thank you.” She sighs and glances down at her clothing, which is in desperate need of a wash. “I think I’m going to wash my clothes, do either of you want anything washed?”

    “I think we all need our clothes washed,” Bofur laughs.

    “Well, I’m not doing it by myself. You can help me.”

    The Dwarf nods and stands. “Bilbo and I are washing clothes today, hand in whatever you want cleaned.”

    “Only outerwear please!” Bilbo adds. “No skivvies, you can wash those yourself.” The Hobbit turns to one of Beorn’s hounds and requests a place to wash their clothes and the supplies to do so. The dog nods and trots away before returning with a basket with the required items and motions for her to follow. She follows the dog while Bofur collects as much clothing as he can; the hound leads her to what she can only assume is the bathroom. There is a basin sitting on the floor that is full of water and the dog places the basket on the floor. She thanks it and lifts the large washboard from the basket and props it against the inside of the basin before removing her overcoat and rolling up her sleeves. 

    It isn’t long before Bofur arrives with the last of the clothing and starts to help wash them. It takes them the rest of the morning to finish washing everything and Bofur leans back on his heels and smiles brightly. “I believe we’re finished now, just have to hang this last bit up outside.”

    Bilbo laughs. “No, we are not done. Bofur your hat is filthy, I have to wash it.” Bofur’s hands clamp down onto his hat. “Bofur, that hat has not been washed this entire journey, I’m cleaning it.” With no response, Bilbo sighs. “Bofur, I will put you into this tub and wash your hat with you still in it.”

    “Then you’ll have to get in with me.”

    “If you put me in this water, I will hurt you.” Bofur let out a peal of laughter before taking off his hat and giving it to the Hobbit. She takes it and dunks it into the water and starts scrubbing away. For just a moment, she recalls her last conversation with Bofur, the night with the Goblins. “Bofur?” she says as she pauses her scrubbing.

    “Yeah?”

    “You were going to tell me something when we were in the cave in the mountains. Something that Nori told you. What was it?”

    “Oh, right that.” The Dwarrow clears his throat before speaking. “You remember that morning we both woke up with those awful hangovers?” Bilbo nods. “And we couldn’t remember what happened the night before?” she nods again. “Nori told me what happened. He said that we almost-” he clears his throat.”-’went to bed,’ if you understand me.” Bilbo doesn’t respond, she just leans back to rest on her heels. “He said, had it not been for Thorin interrupting, we would have.”

    Bilbo shakes her head. “No, it wouldn’t have. I’ve been told that even when I’m blackout drunk, I’m still the most rational person. I wouldn’t have allowed myself to run the risk of becoming pregnant. And I don’t feel that way about you. I’m sorry, but Thorin is a part of me, and I could never have anything similar to what we had with someone else.”

    “No, I understand, I only want friendship with you as well, I’m just unsure of what compelled either of us to want to do that.”

    “What compels anyone to do anything?” There’s a short silence before Bilbo speaks again. “Was Nori angry with you?”

    Bofur’s face turns bright pink in an instant.”Why would he be angry with me?” He mumbles.

    “I knew it!”

    “We’re not… or rather we weren’t exclusive until that. I think Nori was afraid to be with me because of his reputation and he didn’t want me to get hurt. But after that, I think he was more afraid to lose me to someone else. Even though that would never happen, I love him too much.”

    Bilbo smiles. “That’s so sweet.”

    “I’ll admit, Nori and I are a bit of an odd couple, but we balance each other out” The Dwarrow begins. “I keep him grounded, give him something to come back to. He would do anything to anyone before we met, nearly get himself killed night after night. We met and he remained the same, but if he’d got himself messed up pretty bad, he’d come to me and I’d patch him up and we’d talk. Fifth time he came to me bloodied and all, was the night he kissed me for the first time. It was awkward, for both of us. He’d never felt that way about anyone before, and I’d never been with a Dwarrow before him, just some casual things with a few Dams.” Bofur pauses for a moment to collect his thoughts, then continues. “Eventually, he moved out of the Ri house and moved in with me and Bifur. Bombur has his wife and his wee ones, but Bif couldn’t live by himself after Azanulbizar. He only went into battle because his Mum and little brother died in childbirth.” He could hear Bilbo suck in a breath at that, “He was so broken after their deaths, because he really didn’t have anyone other than Bomb and I’s family, his Dad died a few months before in a mine collapse. Bomb and I’s parents tried to be there for him, but he wanted to isolate himself. He never told us exactly why he joined the army they’d put together, but we knew it was because he wanted to die, and he wanted to go out honorably. But he got that axe in his forehead, lost his Westron, and I think that just made him worse. It was awful, he was just over the age limit for the army. He was fifty-five when he got that axe and he’s had it ever since. I remember waking of from nightmares near every night after he left with them. I still get them from time to time. One night, it was really bad, but Nori was there and he took care of me.” Bilbo puts a comforting hand over his own. “We never really told anyone about us, Bif, Bomb, and Dwalin know, and I think Dori and Ori know, but I’m not entirely sure about them. Nobody else, ‘cept you of course.” Bofur pauses. “How  _ did  _ you find out?”

    “Let’s walk and talk,” She says, picking up the basket and the clothespins. They walk out of the bathroom and follow the path through the house to get outside to where the clothesline is so they could hang up the freshly washed clothing to dry. “You sleep close together,” Bilbo says as she places the basket down, “and you take care of each other. You two always makes sure the other one eats, especially you to Nori. Always make sure to check for injuries after a fight, you just gravitate towards each other. At first I wasn’t sure, then I knew, the same thing with Dwalin and Ori, I can only imagine Dori’s reaction to when he finds out about that.” They both laugh in agreement and Bilbo starts to hang up the wet garments alongside the others that were drying. Beorn’s hounds had to put up a new line, one that Bilbo could actually reach, because Beorn’s was much too tall. “It was also the same thing with Isengrim and Elenion. Isengrim brought Elenion home once after a trip to Rivendell, he said it was to introduce us and have Elenion teach me the things he taught Grim, because Elenion is a healer. But after a few days, I knew the real reason. Before Elenion left, about a week before, he and Grim approached me and asked if they could start courting. I was quite amusing, though, watching them dance around each other in front of me when they thought I didn’t know.” Bilbo smiles fondly “It was also amusing to see Elenion hit his forehead off the door frames continuously. It reminded me how the many times Thorin would hit his head on things. 

    “He’d often hit it on the bottom of shelves and on the inside of the lower cabinets. The first time he did it, I can’t remember what I asked him to get, but he went to stand and knocked the very top of his head on the frame of the cabinet. Needless to say he was very embarrassed and angry and he locked himself in the guest room until dinner was ready. I, on the other hand, was dying of laughter in the kitchen.” The two of them dissolve into laughter at the image of the Dwarf King with a red face full of embarrassment.

    “That’s quite an image,” Bofur says.

    “We were just friends back then, and he didn’t forgive me for that for about a week,” Bilbo admits, “I’m sure if I mentioned it to him, he’d probably not speak to me.” They chuckle together then continue their work in silence for a moment. “I remember when Thorin kissed me for the first time. It was the third summer he came to the Shire, and he’d accidentally sliced his hand open testing the blades on a new set of knives he was making. He’d tied a rag around his hand and kept working, determined to finish those knives and deliver them. Then he came home and I had to sew his hand up. It was after I finished the stitches and I looked up and he was staring at me. Being the oblivious Hobbit I am, I asked why he was staring at me. He didn’t answer me, but he cups my face, with his injured hand, might I add, and he kissed me. It was sweet, and of course I fussed over his hand. Then we started courting the next summer, after dancing around each other for the rest of that summer.”

    “And then you got married,” Bofur says.

    Bilbo shakes her head. “We never got married.”

    “But, the twins,” he argues.

    “They were born out of wedlock,” Bilbo pauses, “Wait, they  _ were _ born out of wedlock, weren’t they?”

    Bofur clears his throat, “Well, technically, Dwarves aren’t allowed to have sex with the person they’re courting with until they’re married.”

    “How do Dwarves marry?”

    “Uh, well, it um… it’s all in Khuzdul, and the pair getting married exchange promises and the such, they put the marriage braid into each other’s hair, and they kiss and they’re married. My explanation is very simplified, because there’s a lot more to it than that, but basically, that’s what happens.”

    Bilbo puts her head in her hands. “We were married.”

    “I suppose you don’t know the divorce process either.” She shakes her head. “Well it’s not very common, only used in abuse cases, really. But there’s the occasion where the couple just can no longer stand each other.”

    “But it wasn’t like that. I loved him, so much, and I really thought he loved me too. It was just that after we apparently got married, he stopped replying to my letters and then he never came back. I assumed it was because he didn’t want to be with me because I’d gotten pregnant and he didn’t want children. It’s not uncommon. But if we were married, he must have wanted children.”

    “So, you’re technically still married.”

    “I can’t believe it. We’re married and I endured all of those cruel things said about me and my children because everyone thought we weren’t.”

    “Cruel things?”

    “That I was whore and my children were bastards.”

    Bofur is quiet for a long time. “How are some people so cruel?” Bilbo just shrugs and continues pinning up the clothing.

    Bofur purses his lips before changing the subject. “Okay, before, you mentioned that Ori and Dwalin are together?”

    Bilbo cracks a smile. “Of course. It’s obvious, how could you not see it?”

    “I have no clue, if it’s so obvious. But I’d love to hear the backstory of them.”

    “Backstory of who?” Bilbo and Bofur burst into laughter at Dwalin’s question.

    “Speak of the wolf and he shall appear,” Bilbo laughs, “We were wondering how you and Ori came to be.”

    The warrior flushes a deep red. “How could you possibly know about us?”

    “I know things, and I have eyes,” the Hobbit explains, “Come on, tell us. We won’t tell anyone, I swear.”

    Dwalin doesn’t speak for a moment, but eventually, he let’s himself let it out. “We met sort of on accident,” He begins, “I had sent for Bofur to come pick up Nori, but the messenger came back saying the he wasn’t there, so I sent for Dori. The messenger brought back Ori, in her stead. He was young and shy, and he took his brother without much word. Each time he came to retrieve his brother, he spoke a bit more. It took him almost a year before he spoke more than three sentences to me. It was also the same time he asked me to dinner. After that, we met a few times a month and had dinner. He would talk about his apprenticeship with my brother and his books and drawings. I would listen and wonder what he wanted to do with an old, scarred Dwarrow like me.”

    “And you still wonder?” Bilbo asks gently. The guardsman nods. “I used to wonder the same thing,” the Hobbit says, “I just didn’t understand what Thorin saw in me, he’s this hardened, strong, warrior. I’m… the exact opposite. I’m soft and gentle, and--”

    “Hey, don’t think about yourself that way,” Bofur scolds, “You are soft and gentle, exactly the way the Green Lady intended you to be, but you’re strong as well. You raised two babes by yourself, and endured the talk and gossip that those cruel people said about you.”

    “What talk?” Dwalin asks.

    Bofur glances at Bilbo and the Hobbit speaks, “When I was pregnant, it wasn’t a mystery who the father was. It was the sixth summer Thorin had came to the Shire. And I obviously just learned that we got married that summer. But according to everyone else, I was just an unwed whore with two bastards growing inside me.”

    Dwalin’s fist clenches at his side. “Who speaks to you this way?” he asks, his voice hushed.

    “Not many, not any more. Only a few of the elders and some others,” Bilbo responds, “They changed their minds about the twins after Isengrim pulled one of the Brandybuck boys out of the river. Saved him from drowning, he did. The twins taught themselves how to swim when they were about twelve, that’s all the markets could talk about. How unnatural it is to swim, and how I shouldn’t let them get anywhere near the water, let alone in it. Two years later, they pulled that boy out of the water, saved his life, and suddenly they’re all friendly. Offering me fair prices for goods and all, letting the twins play with the faunts”

    “What do you mean by that?” Bofur asks “Fair prices? What were they offering you before?”

    “I used to pay almost a half more than everyone else. Everyone knew it was unfair, but I had children to feed. Eventually, after they started hiking the prices up, I would send our neighbor Hobson, Hamfast’s father, to get my groceries for me. Not all the time, then they would suspect something, and charge him more as well.”

    “And they didn’t let the twins play with the young ones?”

    “No. They thought my children were dangerous; like all Dwarves, they said. Even though I’d raised them to be good gentlehobbits. They hardly knew anything about their Dwarvish culture, only what I knew from what Thorin told me. But because they were different, they were dangerous.” Bilbo sighs. “They did a lot of good though. They found a book on Sign Language, and taught the whole Shire in just over 2 years, all for this little Took girl who couldn’t hear. Of course it wasn’t just for her, there are many Hobbits in the Shire who can’t hear or speak. Deafness and Speechlessness are things usually only family deals with, so not many people knew how to speak with those who couldn’t hear or speak back.

    “Children now learn it once they’re old enough.” Bilbo pauses for a moment, thinking. “You know, I can recall a time when if a babe was anything but normal, they’d just drown it and the parents would just try again.” Both dwarves make choking noises, astonished. “Of course when I was born, it was not as common. And now they don’t do it at all.”

    “They just murdered newborns?” Bofur asks.

    Bilbo nods, “They used to, yes. When my parents were children, it was very common to drown a babe if it wasn’t normal. If the infant was deaf or blind, or deformed in some way that was very noticeable, they’d drown it, with the parent’s consent, of course. Most folk back then didn’t want to have different children, that it would ruin their family name to have a child like that.”

    The two dwarves are speechless. And Bilbo glances between them. Eventually, Dwalin speaks first. “Why? How could they do such a thing?” 

    Bilbo shrugs. “It was just the way they did things back then. Now it didn’t happen very often, mind you, it was only one or two children every year or so. But it was still too many.”

    “You understand our look on children?” Bofur asks.

    “Somewhat, I know Females are rare, which most likely means children are rarer.”

    “Aye, that is correct,” Dwalin says, “Children are more precious than any gem the mountain could give us. Even the thought of killing a child for such a petty reason, it’s disgusting.”

    “Like I said, it was only a long time ago, and killing a child is, like you said, disgusting,” Bilbo comments, “but, when everyone found out about them, one of the Chubb elders, they asked if I wanted to…” the Hobbit swallows hard, “well, you know.” 

    Dwalin puts his arms around the burglar and pulls her into a tight hug, and presses a soft, comforting kiss to the top of her head. “I don’t understand. How can Hobbits be so cruel?”

    “I don’t understand either, my friend,” Bilbo replies, “It’s just the way they are.”

    “You don’t have to go back, you know?” Bofur says gently, “After we reclaim Erebor, you can just stay with us, you don’t have to live there anymore if you don’t want.”

    The Hobbit smiles. “I’d like that, I’d like that a lot. I’m sure Bella and Isengrim would like living in Erebor a lot more than in the Shire as well.” She frowns slightly. “I’d have to go back of course, to collect our things and officially give the house to Drogo. And to also make sure that Lobelia doesn’t try to declare us deceased and take the house. She’s had her eye on Bag End for years.” The Hobbit moves to check the dryness of the first set of clothes they put up. They first washed everyone’s trousers and shirts so they would dry first and they wouldn’t all be sitting in their underwear for too long. “It won’t be long before everyone can come collect their shirts and trousers, but everything else will probably have to wait until this evening,” She declares, noting that most of everything is mostly dry, but there are a few spots that are still damp.

    “Good, I’ve had enough of being in my underthings,” Bofur says.

    “You and me both, my friend,” Bilbo replies with a chuckle. 

    “We’ve all had enough.” Dwalin grumbles.

    “Well, you could take your shirt and trousers now, if you’d like,” The Hobbit says, “They’re still a bit damp in a few places but I suppose it’s better than wearing nothing.” Dwalin grunts and Bilbo isn’t sure how to interpret it, but she assumes it’s an agreement. “Did you come out here for a reason?” she queries, “I’m not being rude, but you came out here and seemed to have a reason, but we distracted you.”

    “I was told to come get you for lunch, Beorn’s beasts are putting it together now,” he states, “But I’m sure they’ve finished now and we probably missed it.”

    Bofur shrugs. “I wouldn’t be surprised,” he admits.

    Bilbo nods in agreement. “I wouldn’t either.”

    Thorin rounds to corner and approaches them. “Is it truly that hard to retrieve two people for a meal, Dwalin?” he asks dryly.

    “It was actually our fault,” Bilbo explains, “We distracted him with our questions.”

    “Questions?”

    “Not my business to tell. He’ll tell you eventually.”

    “Okay? Well, I made everyone wait to eat until you came back and they’re all most likely eating now that I’ve left, so we should probably go back before they eat everything.”

    “Good,” Bilbo says, “I’m starved. But first help me take these down. They’re dry enough. Just the shirts and trousers, mind you. Everything else is still quite wet.” 

    They collect the dry clothing and go into Beorn’s home to distribute them, then dress themselves before sitting at the table to eat. Bilbo enjoys the meal just as much as she had enjoyed breakfast. She then thinks that she probably should have bathed before putting on her clean clothes, and decides to do so after she finishes eating. She asks one of the skinchanger’s dogs where she could take a bath, and it turns and barks at another before leading her further into the house. It opens the linen closet and pulls out a towel and gives it to her before leading her back to the bathroom. When they arrive, Beorn’s bath has been filled about halfway and there is a stepping stool against the side.

    “Uh, okay, t-thank you,” she stammers. The hound nods and pulls the door shut after it leaves. Bilbo looks back at the tub and notices the steam coming off the water, and suddenly the size of the tub is no longer a problem; sure it might be enough to drown her by accident, but at least she’ll die in a tub of hot water instead of a freezing cold river. She places down the towel and begins undressing. She uses the stepping stool to climb into the tub and sinks down into the gloriously hot water. She sighs happily and scrubs at her skin with the sweet smelling soap bar. She stays in the bath until the water loses its heat, then dries herself off and redresses. Using the towel, Bilbo squeezes out the remaining water in her hair before exiting the bathroom and approaching Thorin in the main room. “Could you possibly comb my hair for me? The mirror in the bathroom is too high.” He nods and she smiles. “Thank you. I’ve actually got to check the clothes outside, so we could do it out there.” he nods again and she rolls her eyes “What’s wrong with you? Cat got your tongue?”

    “What?”

    “Nothing,” she snorts, “Nevermind.” She turns on her heel and leads Thorin outside to the clothes line. She first tests the dryness of the clothes before pulling a wooden comb out of her coat and then hands it to Thorin. She then takes a few steps away from the clothesline before sitting on the grass. She looks back up at the Dwarrow, an eyebrow raised, “Are you going to sit down, or what?” she asks. 

    Thorin sits behind her, groaning. “I’m getting old,” he mutters.

    “No you’re not,” Bilbo argues, “Because that means I am.” They share a chuckle before Thorin begins combing her hair. “Thorin?”

    “Yes?”

    “If female Dwarves--”

    “Dwarrowdams.”

    “Right, my apologies. If Dwarrowdams are so rare, why are Dori and Fili on the quest? Shouldn’t they be protected or something?”

    “Usually they would be, but we couldn’t keep them from coming. Dori refused to leave Ori’s side and Fili did the same with Kili; we also needed every Dwarrow we could convince to join us. And they both are very useful to our quest, Dori is the strongest among us, and Fili can see the farthest. It took so much to keep Dis from joining us as well. But she needed to stay, she needed to rule our Kingdom in my absence.”

    “I’m still upset that I never met your sister.”

    Thorin chuckles. “Do you want me to do anything other than comb it?”

    “You can braid it if you’d like, but I don’t have any fasteners.” The Dwarrow nods then stands up and walks over to his hanging clothes and rifles through the inner pockets for a moment. He then encloses whatever he was looking for in his fist and then sits back down. “What were you looking for?” The Hobbit queries.

    He holds his hand out to reveal strips of leather. “I always keep some extras with me, just in case I have to pull my hair up.”

    “Oh, of course.” Bilbo closes her eyes and focuses her mind on the feeling of the comb brushing against her scalp and pulling gently on her hair. It’s been a while since she’s had someone else do her hair, so she allows herself to enjoy it. She tilts her head up to face the sky, and smiles at the warmth of the sun’s rays across her features. “I love being outside,” she comments, “The sun on my face is one of the best feelings in the world.” Thorin chuckles from behind her and starts to pull back the front of her hair. It doesn’t take him long to finish the braid, and when he’s finished, Bilbo leans back against his chest. “What ever happened to us?” she wonders aloud.

    “Now’s not the best time to talk about it,” The Dwarf replies.

    “Why?” the Hobbit asks.

    “Because I believe it would be pointless when we still have so much left to do,” he answers, “There’s still not a good chance that we’ll all survive, and it would be pointless to fix what we have just for it to be broken again if one of us--” Thorin stops himself and clenches his fist on his thigh. Bilbo lays a gentle hand on his fist, making it uncurl.

    “That’s all right, we don’t have to talk about it now,” she says gently, “how about, instead, we talk about when the twins were little? How about that?”

    Thorin smiles softly and nods. “I’d like that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed! Bofur/Nori is back, I couldn't help it. It's also there because that would've made a huge dent in the word count and I couldn't have that. When a chapter is less than 7000 words it really bothers me, though most of the first six chapters are 6000 words and one or two are even less. But other than that I'm fine. So because these next chapters will be mostly copy and paste, they will be ready faster and will come out on schedule (hopefully), which is every other Friday at somewhere between 3-3:30 EST. I have an alarm on my phone to go off at 2:00 so I usually put the chapter up during those times, though sometimes it takes a bit longer.  
> You can follow me on tumblr if you wish @ blubuddi974  
> I enjoy getting followers who are not porn blogs, though I'm really not on it all that much anymore.


	8. Mirkwood

    Bilbo leans into Thorin, who is sitting beside her now, both of them laughing lightly. “I think Isengrim was jealous, to be completely honest,” She admits.

    “He was a baby,” Thorin says.

    “You could see it on his face,” Bilbo informs, bringing her hands to her face and balling them into fists, “This little, angry, scrunched up look on his face when Bella would walk around the house. After she started, he was determined to start as well. I think they were trying to compete with each other, to see who could learn something faster than the other. Honestly, I think they still do.” 

    “Does it affect them at all?” Thorin asks.

    “I think that sometimes it does. When it happens, it makes them sour for a few weeks, but they’re fine,” Bilbo answers, “Like when Bella learned Elvish quicker than her brother. She kind of rubbed it in his face for a few days, but when she saw how much it hurt him, she helped him instead. Belladonna always learned a lot faster than Isengrim, and I think it upset him. But he never tried to exceed her, he just wanted to be her equal.”

    Thorin nods in understanding. “I remember when Kili was first born, Fili was so jealous.” The dwarf chuckles. “She loved the idea of a younger sibling, until he was born, then she slowly realized that Kili needed a lot of attention, and that she wouldn’t be getting the attention she was used to.” 

    “Were you ever like that?” Bilbo asks.

    “I was,” Thorin admits with a nod, “My brother and I were also 5 years apart. When Frerin was born, I was so angry with the fact that I wasn’t the centre of attention anymore. But I got over it, and was particularly unphased when Dis was born.”

    “I’m sure you were,” Bilbo comments wryly.

    “I was. I was old enough not to care anymore.” 

    “Thorin, you seemed to care when that boy at the fish booth in the market talked to me.”

    “He had ulterior motives.”

    “Behind selling me fish?” Bilbo teases.

    “Yes.” Bilbo laughs at Thorin’s seriousness, but the King quickly joins her.

    After their laughter dies down, they sit in a comfortable silence, watching the clouds drift across the sky. “I’ve always enjoyed this, sitting, talking with you. I particularly liked it when we would sit on top of Bag End underneath the Oak tree and just look out over the Hill and we could see all of Hobbiton. It’s the Twins’ favorite spot as well. I remember when I first took them up to sit underneath it, they were only four and I was terrified they were going to accidentally walk off the edge and hurt themselves. Never did happen though, well, except the time that Bella fell off and cracked a rib. She and Isengrim were shoving each other and Bella had taken too big of a step back and fell right off the edge and onto the stairs, thankfully it’s not too high of a drop or else I fear she would’ve been more severely injured. Speaking of ribs, how’ve you been holding up?”

    “All right, I suppose. Whatever Oin’s been giving me has been helping a lot. Though it still hurts to the touch and I can’t lay on my side.”

    “Well, that’s to be expected. And I’m sure if you weren’t taking anything it would hurt much worse.”

    “I have no doubt in that.” 

    Bilbo looks up at the darkening sky and sighs. “We should probably go back inside, Gandalf told us not to be out when the sun’s down. And besides Dinner is probably going to be ready soon.” Despite her words, Bilbo doesn’t make a move to stand. She stays seated and watches the sky. 

    “You look sad,” Thorin comments, “When you think no one can see you. Why?”

    Bilbo sighs heavily and shrugs her shoulders. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m homesick, maybe I’m just tired.” Thorin tucks a stray curl behind her ear, making the Hobbit smile. “It’s the longest and the furthest I’ve been away from home and I suppose I can’t help but…” she sighs again. “I don’t know.”

    “We could stay, for just a bit longer, if you’d like,” Thorin offers quietly, “We could rest for a few more days if Beorn lets us, we have time.”

    “No, I’ll be fine. What if we get caught up in something and can move along for a while? We need as much time as we can get if we’re supposed to get to the mountain before, what was it again?”

    “This year it would be the final day of  **‘aftharn** ,” The Dwarf King answers.

    “I meant in my calendar, Thorin.”

    “Oh, my apologies. I believe it would be the nineteenth of October, this year.”

    Bilbo nods. “Yes, I suppose we do have a bit of time, but I do not wish to waste any time getting to the Mountain when we’re supposed to.”

    “As long as you believe you’ll be all right.”

    The Hobbit smiles. “I’m sure I’ll be fine.” She pauses for a moment, thinking. “I think the clothes should be dry now, it’s been quite a bit.” She stands and walks the few feet to the clothesline and tests the fabric before smiling and pulling down her waistcoat and jacket then putting them on. She holds out her arms, presenting herself. “How do I look?”

    “Like yourself,” Thorin answers with a smile.

    “I feel like myself, too. Though I’d feel a lot better if I had all my buttons.” She thumbs the top button of her waistcoat; it and the one at the bottom are the only buttons remaining.

    “We’ll get you new buttons,” Thorin offers.

    “Thank you, but I’ll still miss my brass ones, they had little acorns engraved on them.” She buttons her coat to block the view of her waistcoat, and tugs on the hem to straighten it. “Would you mind helping me take everyone their clothes? I’m sure they’ll be wanting them.”

    Thorin shakes his head and stands, then moves to grab as many garments as he’s able to. They take them inside and hand them out to their rightful owners, before they all begin sitting down for dinner; and as they are sitting, Gandalf arrives. The company sits together and enjoys their meal, laughing and talking amongst themselves. And, after much prodding and questioning, Gandalf reveals what he had been doing all day: following bear-tracks. “They could not have been made by just Beorn,” Gandalf mentions, “There were far too many of them and all of different sizes. Some made by small bears, by large ones, some by ordinary bears, and some by gigantic bears. They came from nearly every direction, all but from the mountains. Only one pair of tracks, and they were leading away, not coming. They were also the only ones going away from here. I followed as far as I could, before I was halted by the river; for it was too deep and the current too strong for me to cross. I walked for miles to find a place wide and shallow enough for me to cross and by the time I found it, it had been too late for me to continue following the tracks.” Gandalf pauses to take a few puffs from his pipe and to blow a few smoke rings before continuing. Bilbo has no doubt that he had done it for mere dramatic effect. “They went straight into the pine-woods, where we had our pleasant party with the Orcs.”

    Bilbo looks at the Wizard, bewildered. “And what now? Gandalf, I thought you said he was a neutral party! If he leads those  _ things _ back here to us we’ll surely be caught and killed!”

    “So I did! Now Bilbo, don’t be ridiculous! You should get some rest, all of you.”

    Bilbo presses her fingertips against her temple and massages it with small circles. Perhaps Gandalf was right, she definitely could use some sleep. She wanders over to their beds and takes the one she took the night before; she pulls the quilt up to her chin and snuggles into it before shutting her eyes and falling into the sweet embrace of sleep. 

 

    The next morning, they are all wakened by Beorn himself. “Here you are still,” He says, lifting Bilbo into the air like a babe. The Hobbit’s face morphs into a thunderous look at being picked up, but Beorn ignores it. “Not eaten up by Wargs or orcs or wicked bears yet, I see,” he laughs, seemingly mocking Bilbo’s sleepy statement from the night before. He then pokes Bilbo’s stomach most disrespectfully, causing her look to darken. “Little Bunny is getting nice and fat again on bread and honey, come have some more.”

    He places her back on the floor with a laugh and makes his way to the dining room, where his animals are already setting the table with their breakfast. The company sits down and helps themselves to the meal, while Beorn fills their mugs with milk. The skinchanger seemed much more jolly this morning, and the company did not have to wonder where he’d been, for he told them. “I went over the river and into the mountains. I discovered the burnt wolf-glade, and there I found part of your story to be true. More than that, I found a Warg and its rider wandering the woods. They are patrolling, looking for you, and are fiercely angry because of the Great Goblin’s death. But I suspected more wickedness than angry Goblins from the Misty Mountains, and found an army of Orcs and their wolf-allies hiding amongst the shadows of the Mountains, waiting for you to leave the safety of my home. So, tell me, Oakenshield, why is Azog the Defiler hunting you?”

    Thorin looks up from his breakfast, surprised, “You know of Azog?” he asks, “How?”

    “My people were the first to live in the mountains,” Beorn begins, “Before the Orcs came down from the North. The Defiler killed most of my family, but some he enslaved. Not for work, you understand, but for sport. Caging Skinchangers and torturing them seemed to amuse him.”

    “There are others like you?” Bilbo asks.

    Beorn looks down at the Hobbit, “Once there were many.”

    “And now?” Bilbo continues. 

    “Now, there are very few. Those still alive very rarely change from their animal form, some do not change at all, and only a few change frequently like myself.” He reaches down to place a large hand on one of the dogs’ heads.

    “Surely you must mean Skinchangers from the Misty Mountains,” Bella says, “I've not encountered any, but I've read about the Wolves of the Grey Mountains, and how they were once allies with the Dwarves of Erebor and the Iron Hills.”

    “I have not met the Wolves of the Grey Mountains for a very long time.”

    “Are there any other animals that there are Skinchangers for?” Kili pipes up. 

    “There are the Badgers, the Wolverines, the Foxes, and the Otters,” Beorn informs, “I have not encountered any of them for many years. But I know there are a few otters residing in the southern parts of the Anduin, and the Gwathló. As well as a few live in the sea near Gondor.” 

    “And the others?” Fili asks.

    “I am unsure. The Foxes and the Wolves fled the Ash mountains during Sauron's reign for the Iron Hills and the Grey Mountains, but I have not heard what became of them.”

    “There are rumors about seeing giant foxes and like in the southern parts of the Blue Mountains,” Dwalin says, “I've never seen them for myself, but travelers have.”

    “I'd heard the wolverines were seen down there as well,” Ori comments, “But nothing has ever been proven.”

    Beorn's changes the subject back to that of their quest. “You need to reach the mountain before the last days Autumn,” He says, settling in his large chair in the corner of the room.

    Gandalf confirms, “Before Durin’s Day falls, yes.”

    “You are running out of time,” Beorn comments.

    Gandalf nods in agreement, “Which is why we must go through Mirkwood,” The Wizard informs.

    “A darkness lies upon that forest,” Beorn warns, “Fell things creep beneath those trees. I would not venture there except in great need.”

    “We will take the Elven Road, that path is still safe.”Gandalf comments.

    “‘Safe’? The Wood Elves of Mirkwood are not like their kin,” Beorn cautions, “They’re less wise and more dangerous. But, it matters not.”

    “What do you mean?” Thorin asks.

    “These lands are crawling with Orcs,” Beorn tells, “Their numbers are growing; and you are on foot. You would never reach the forest alive.” Beorn stands suddenly, startling most of the company. “I don’t like Dwarves,” he begins, “They’re greedy, and blind.” Bofur brushes a mouse off his arm and onto the table. Beorn picks up the small creature and holds it gently in his large hand. “Blind to the lives they deem lesser than their own.” He pauses, looking at the mouse and petting its small head with his thumb; he looks at Thorin and speaks again, “But Orcs I hate more. What do you need?”

    After much discussing, Thorin and Beorn settled on what he would provide for the company. He provides a pony for each member and a horse for Gandalf for their journey to the forest. He also provides food to last them weeks with care. He packed the food so it would be easy to carry; this included nuts, flour, sealed jars of dried fruit, red earthenware pots of honey, and and twice-baked cakes that would keep good for a long time. He also provides waterskins and some bows and arrows.

    They spent the rest of the morning preparing for their journey, and soon after midday, they ate with Beorn for the last time. “It was a good story, that of yours,” he comments “But, I like it better now that I am sure it is true. You must forgive me, for not taking your word. If you lived near the edge of Mirkwood, you would understand. I can only say I hurried home so I could see that you were safe, and to offer any help that I could. I shall think more kindly of Dwarves after this, after all, you killed the Great Goblin.” Beorn chuckles fiercely to himself. “Killed the Great Goblin!”

    During Beorn’s chuckling, Bilbo recalls him mentioning seeing a Warg and Goblin. “What did you do with the Goblin and Warg?” she asks suddenly. Beorn halts his chuckling, but smiles.

    “Come take a look,” he says and leads them out of the house. A Goblin’s head is stuck on a pike just outside of the gate and a Warg pelt is nailed to a tree just beyond the head. Bilbo grimaces, Beorn is a fierce enemy, but she is grateful that he is their friend now. “The goblins will not cross the Anduin for a hundred miles North of the Carrock, nor will they come near my house. But still, you should ride swiftly; they will cross the river in the South and scour the edges of the Forest to try and cut you off. You will be safer going North, for it will force the Orcs to have a longer ride to catch you.”

    They mount their borrowed steeds and thank Beorn, to which he replies with a request that they send back his ponies before they go into the forest, he also tells them to not touch the water or stray from the path. “But I wish you all speed,” he says, “And my house is open to you, all of you, if ever you have the need to return to the West.”

    They leave Beorn’s home with many thanks, and also many sunken spirits, for this quest is becoming much more dangerous than they’d originally thought. That is why they’re riding in silence now, galloping where the ground is grassy and smooth, with the mountains on their left and the line of the river and its trees drawing ever closer. The sun had only just turned West when they’d began, and until evening it lay golden on the ground around them. It was difficult to think about their pursuing enemy behind them, so Bilbo tries not to think about it. She instead thinks about the ache that will begin to settle in the next few hours. And while that will be quite unpleasant, at least it’s familiar and lets her think of the times before the Trolls, times when she would tease and be teased by her children and her nephews, when the atmosphere around the company was much lighter and jovial. Now it was heavy and gloomy, scared and intimidated. That is, until they’ve put many miles between themselves and Beorn’s home, then they begin to feel more comfortable talking and singing and they forget about the dark forest-path ahead of them. In the evening, when the dusk came, they made camp and set a guard. Bombur cooked up a small dinner and they sleep after eat, though most of them sleep uneasily as their dreams are haunted by the howls of wolves and the cries of Orcs.

    Still, the next morning dawned bright and fair again. There is a mist on the ground and a chill in the air, informing the company that Autumn is drawing near, but soon the sun rises in the East and the mist vanishes. So they ride on for two more days, seeing nothing but grass, flowers, birds, scattered trees, and the occasional group of deer either wandering about or sitting in the shade of the previously mentioned scattered trees. On their third evening, they were too eager to stop traveling and decided to press on into the night beneath the moon. During the night, when the light had faded and their only guide was the moon, Bilbo glances around at their surroundings and when she look behind the company, she sees a figure prowling along behind them by quite a few yards. She squints, trying to see better in the dark, and identifies the shadowy form as a great big bear. She then realizes that Beorn must have been following them this entire time, whether it to make sure they return his ponies or to protect them from the Orcs on their trail, Bilbo didn’t know. But when she tried to mention it to Gandalf, he shushed her and told her to take no notice.

    Their night did not last long, as they made camp late and started again before dawn, but it allowed the company to reach the edge of the Forest in the afternoon of their fourth day of travelling. As soon as it was light, they could see the forest as if it were waiting for them like a dark and towering wall. The land had begun to slope upwards and it seemed to Bilbo that a silence was drawing upon the company. Birds had begun to sing less, there were no more deer or rabbits to be seen. By the afternoon, they’d reached the gate to their path through the infernal forest. The trees on the outer edge are haunting; their trunks are huge and gnarled, their branches twisted unnaturally, and their leaves are dark and long. Ivy grows on them, trailing from the base of the trees into the tallest of the branches and then hanging down menacingly; the wind, which is growing ever stronger with the incoming storm, blows the dangling vines, making them dance and seem less intimidating.

    Gandalf gracefully dismounts his horse and walks toward the gate, muttering to himself. “Here lies our path through Mirkwood!” the Wizard calls out “Set the ponies loose, let them return to their master! Beorn is not as far off as you seem to think, and you’d better keep your promise, for he is a bad enemy. Miss Baggins’ eyes are much sharper than yours, none but she had seen a great bear following us and watching us. Not only to guard you, but to watch after his ponies as well. Beorn might be your friend, but he loves his animals as his children. You do not know the kindness he has shown you in letting you ride his ponies, nor what would happen to you if you took them into that forest.” The dwarves grumble to themselves as the dismount their ponies and begin to undress them. Bilbo hops off her pony and walks toward the gate.

    “This forest feels… sick,” She says, “As if a disease lies upon it.”

    “How can you tell?” Dori asks.

    “It’s something we Hobbits have,” Isengrim explains, “Similar to your Stone Sense, we can sense the plants and how they feel. It’s unnerving, this Forest. Is there no way around?”

    “Not unless we go 200 miles North, or twice that distance South,” Gandalf informs. The Wizard wanders further into the Forest muttering to himself before suddenly rushing outside a few moments later and halting Nori from releasing his Horse.

    “What about your promise then?” Thorin questions.

    “I will look after that. I am not returning the horse, I am riding it.” This is when Bilbo, and the rest of the company collectively register that Gandalf is leaving them at the edge of Mirkwood. “There is no use arguing, I have pressing business to take care of in the South, and I am already late. We may meet again, but of course, we also may not. That depends of your luck, your courage, and your sense; and I am sending Miss Baggins with you.” The Wizard looks down at the Hobbit, “You’ve changed, Bilbo Baggins. You’re not the same Hobbit as the one who left the Shire.”

    “I was going to tell you,” Bilbo begins, “I found something in the Goblin tunnels.”

    “Found what?” Gandalf asks, “What did you find?”

    Bilbo fiddles with the ring in her waistcoat pocket, trying to psych herself up to admit to Gandalf, but she doesn’t, she  _ can’t _ , not yet. She puts the ring away, deciding that it’s for another time, and lets her arm fall to her side. “My courage,” she says, which wasn’t entirely false. She had found her courage when encountering the creature Gollum.

    Gandalf’s gaze bores into her as he straightens. “Good,” he says, and Bilbo can tell he knows she’s not telling him the truth, “Well that’s good. You’ll need it.” Gandalf mounts his horse as it begins to rain, “I’ll be waiting for you at the overlook, before the slopes of Erebor. Do not enter that mountain without me.” As Gandalf turns to leave them, he stresses to them not to stray from the path, or to touch the water; then he is galloping away. The dwarves grumble to themselves for a moment before they decide to evenly distribute their food as fairly as possible. Bilbo frowns at the weight of the pack on her back and did not at all like the idea of trudging for miles with it on her back.

    “Do not worry,” Thorin says, placing a hand on her shoulder, “It will become lighter before long, and we’ll all be wishing they were heavier.” She nods and as the company turns away from the light that lies on the lands outside, she turns to look back where Gandalf’s figure had disappeared, as well as Beorn’s. She sighs softly and turns forward again, shouldering her heavy pack as they plunge into the forest.

    They walk single file through the dense forest, their eyes adjusting to the darkness. There are black squirrels in the forest, they scuttle along the trunks of the trees and away from the path. Queer noises sound from around them, grunts, scufflings, and hurryings in the undergrowth, and among the leaves on the forest floor. Though, the nastiest things they see are the cobwebs. Dense cobwebs with unusually thick threads, stretched between the trees and tangled in the branches. But there were none stretched across the path, whether it was the cause of magic or some other reason they could not guess.

    It wasn’t long before they begin to hate the forest as they hated the Goblin Tunnels, but Mirkwood seems to have even less hope of finding an ending. The forest was dark and stuffy, no light or winds finding their way through the forest-roof, so the continued on, miserable and feeling suffocated.

    The nights though, are the worse. So dark no one could see their hands in front of their noses. They slept huddled together, taking turns taking watch; and when it was the Hobbit’s turn, she could sometimes see little gleams of light in the distance, small green and red and yellow lights. They reminded Bilbo of fireflies as they disappeared and reappeared in different spots. But they were always in pairs, like eyes, which disturbed her. But the eyes she likes the least are the insect eyes; pale, bulbous eyes, and much too big.

    They try lighting watch-fires at night, but it only brings more eyes around them, as well as giant moths and bats, so they give that up. The days blend together, time doesn’t mean much to the company anymore. Every time they try to think of how many days it’s been, they draw a blank. The Forest seems to go on forever, and stay the same no matter where they go. They try shooting one of the squirrels, but they waste too many arrows, and after cooking one, they turn out to taste horribly.

    Eventually, after however many days have passed, they come across the stream Gandalf and Beorn had mentioned. There seemed to have been a wooden bridge long ago, but since then it had rotted and fell into the water, leaving only the posts on either side. Bilbo squints at the other side of the water, making out the shape of a boat. “I see a boat! Against the far bank!” she cries.

    Thorin comes to stand beside her, a hand resting on her upper back, and the Dwarf peers forward. “How far away do you think it is?” he asks.

    “Not too far,” she says, “Perhaps, twelve yards? I shouldn’t think it above that.”

    “Twelve yards?” Thorin asks, squinting his eyes at the far bank, “I would think it’s at least thirty, but my eyes don’t see as well as they used to. Still, twelve yards is far; we can’t jump it, nor can we wade or swim across.”

    “Can’t you throw a rope?” Bilbo asks.

    “What good would that do? It’s sure to be tied up, even if we could hook it, which I doubt.”

    “I don’t think it’s tied,” the Hobbit says, “Though of course, I can’t be sure in this light. But it looks as if it’s been drawn up onto the bank, which is low just there where the path goes down into the water, can’t you see it?”

    “Fili, you have the best eyes, come see if you can see the boat Miss Baggins is referring to.” Fili stands beside them and looks at the bank, searching for the boat. She believes she sees it and stares a good while to get an idea of the distance. The others bring her a rope, their longest one, with a large iron hook on the end, one they’d used for catching the pack to the straps on their shoulders. Fili balances it in her hand before throwing it across, and it falls into the water with a splash.

    “You almost had it,” Bilbo assures her, “Just a few more feet and you would’ve had it. I don’t suppose the magic is strong enough to affect you from just a wet rope. Try again.” Fili pulls the rope back and throws it once again with great strength. “Steady now! You could’ve thrown in right into the wood on the other side!” the Hobbit scolds, “Draw it back gently.” Fili does as she’s told and waits for the rope to go taut. When it does, she pulls with the help of a few other members of the company. They tug and tug, until they all suddenly fall over, then Bilbo catches the rope and cries out for help. Balin grabs the rope and helps her pull it to their side.

    “So it was tied,” Balin says, looking at the snapped painter.

    “Oh, oops,” Bilbo says with a shrug, “Who’ll cross first?”

    “I will,” Thorin decides, “And you will come with me, and Fili and Balin. That’s only how many the boat will hold at a time. After that, Kili, Oin, Gloin, and Dori; next Ori, Nori, Bofur and Bifur; and finally Dwalin and Bombur.”

    “I don’t like being last,” Bombur complains, “it should be someone else’s turn today”

    “You should not be so fat,” Thorin retorts, “As you are, you must be with the last and lightest load. Don’t start grumbling against orders, or something bad will happen to you.”

    “If Bombur should be with the lightest, why isn’t he with Bilbo?” Dwalin teases.

    Bilbo giggles behind her hand when Thorin gives his best friend a dark look. “Bilbo comes with me, and that’s final.” Dwalin snort and whispers something that Bilbo cannot hear to Bofur, and the two of them chuckle together.

    She clears her throat and speaks up, “There aren’t any oars, how will we get across?”

    “Give me another length of rope and hook and I will throw it across and pull us across,” Fili says. They put it together and Fili throws it across the darkness, and once they see that the hook didn’t fall, they see that it landed in the branches. “Get in now,” she says, “One of you hold on the the rope that is stuck in a tree on the other side. Another must hold on to the first hook so that when we are safe on the other side, they can hook it and the others can draw it back.”

    Soon, all but Dwalin and Bombur were safe on the other side. Dwalin pulls himself out of the boat, the rope coiled on his arm and he begins to help Bombur, who was still grumbling about being last, out of the boat, when something bad happens. There’s a sound of hooves on the path in front of them and a white deer appears and stares at the Company. Thorin arms himself with a bow, ons that they were gifted by Beorn, and swiftly shoots an arrow at the stag. The arrow misses its target by just a few inches and the deer runs off.

    Bilbo shakes her head, disapproving. “You shouldn’t have done that. It’s bad luck.”

    Thorin beings to respond when there is a large splash and Dwalin cries out “Bombur’s fallen in! He’s drowning!” They quickly pull the large Dwarrow out of the dark water and onto the land. They stare at the sleeping Dwarf, a smile on his face. They grumble to themselves as four of the strongest pick up the sleeping Dwarf and place him on a makeshift stretcher made from long branches and shields and the others carry their packs and they move forward.

    Bombur was still sleeping after what they believed to be six days, though they could never be sure how many days had passed, and they found their path moving downwards into a valley filled mostly with mighty oak trees. “Is there no end to this accursed forest?” Thorin cries, “Someone must climb a tree and see if they can poke their head above the roof and have a look around.”

    ‘Someone’ of course, meant Bilbo, because she is the lightest and the high branches could take her weight. She rolls her eyes and scrambles up a tree. Eventually, and almost startlingly, she’s above the trees, breathing in the fresh air and almost choking on it. She finds the spiders she was fearing, but they were only of ordinary size, though when one crawls over the back of her hand, she shrieks and furiously shakes her hand to get it off. She also finds butterflies, butterflies that she believes to be Purple Emperors, butterflies that love the tops of oak trees, but these were not purple, but a velvety black. She smiles as the sun shines brilliantly on her face, warming her skin, thinking that it’s been too long since she’s had the sun shine down on her. She can hear the Dwarves arguing below her, but she just wants to sit for a moment and soak it all in. But, she knows she can’t.

    She quickly comes to her senses and calls down to the Company. “I can see a lake! And a river,” she cries, and pushes a bunch of leaves out of her way, “And the Lonely Mountain! We’re almost there!” She tries to look down through the trees, the quietness of the Dwarves worries her. “Can you hear me? I know which way to go!” Snapping branches catches her attention and she looks up. Trees in the distance rustle, making her disconcerted, and she starts to make her way down. Unfortunately, her feet get tangled in spiderweb and she tumbles down. She grabs onto a branch, which turns out not to be a branch, but a giant spider leg. The Hobbit lets out a shriek and let’s go of the spider’s hairy appendage. She lands on a web, a large and sticky on, and when she attempts to free herself, she finds that she’s stuck. The giant spider advances and reaches her quickly, too quickly for her liking and she quickly gets wrapped up in the web. Then after she was snugly wrapped in the spider’s web, a sharp pain blooms from her lower back, and soon her body becomes numb and she loses consciousness.

 

    In what seems like only a few moments, Isengrim goes from trying to prevent the Dwarves from fighting each other to being trapped in a mysterious substance and laying on the solid ground with pain blooming from his back, and he assumes he’d just been dropped from a tall height. He tears at his bindings and jumps up to help the others out of theirs, it’s then that he realizes that they were contained in spiderwebs. He shivers hard, disgusted at the mere thought of an average spider; but to think about a giant one, able to trap a full person in it’s silk, is terrifying. Eventually the whole company, excluding his mother, were on the ground ready to fight the giant spiders, though they were still quite groggy from the spider’s poison. “Where’s Bilbo?” Bofur asks.

    “I’m up here!” Bilbo’s voice cries from above them, but she’s cut off by her own scream and when Isengrim looks up at where he heard it come from, but he sees no sign of his mother. They company pulls out their weapons and beings to fight the quickly surrounding spiders. They hack and slash and stab the horrid creatures, ending their lives quickly. Grim fights beside his sister and they subconsciously move away from the company.

    Grim removes his sword from the spider and grins at his sister, who throws back a twin smile. Their attention is caught by an Elvish shout and Grim crouches, then slowly moves toward the commotion. The company is surrounded by Wood Elves, who are taking away their weapons. Isengrim looks to his sister and beings signing ‘ **Who is the blonde one?** ’

    ‘ **I believe that is Legolas, the Elf King’s son** ’ she replies.

    He watches as another Elf hands the Prince Thorin’s sword, Orcrist, he remembers Elrond calling it. He cannot hear their conversation, but Legolas admires the blade before looking at Thorin and, Isengrim assumes, asks him something. The most likely question is where he got it from. He then can only assume that Thorin answers because then Legolas points the tip of the sword at the Dwarf King. This makes Isengrim frown, just because he hasn’t accepted the Dwarf as his father doesn’t mean he wants him injured. And pointing a sword at someone who is no longer a threat is quite rude, quite rude indeed.

    The blonde Elf calls out and the rest of the elves start to move the Dwarves along. The Twins follow from a safe distance, making sure to be as quiet as possible, knowing the great hearing of the Elves. They stay back in the forest once they reach the gate of Mirkwood to scheme. They discussed every possible question and outcome to telling their story, so that they were completely prepared to go knocking on the door. They made sure to clean themselves of the spiderwebs and adjust their clothing to look presentable. 

    Isengrim lead their way across the thin bridge to the door, he raised his fist and knocked. There seems to be a confused atmosphere coming from behind the door, before it is opened. “ _ What is your business _ ?” The guard Elf demands in his own language.

    “ _ We seek refuge, _ ” Isengrim replies, “ _ My brother and I. We are headed towards Esgaroth on business, and we need a place to stay. _ ”

    The Elf squints at the two, suspicious. “ _ Get the prince, _ ” The guard says to another, “ _ The King is still busy with the prisoner. _ ” The second Elf guard nods and moves quickly to retrieve the prince. The first guard then opens the door further and lets the twins inside. They wait a moment in the entrance of the kingdom before the other guard and Legolas appear.

    The prince glances at the twins before turning to the guard that retrieved him, “ _ Put them with the others. _ ”

    “ _ What others _ ?” Bella asks, her voice deepens to keep the facade that she’s male.

    Legolas blinks in surprise. “I apologize,” he says, in Westron, “What business do you have?”

    “We’re in need of a place to stay for a short while, before we can move on to Esgaroth.” Isengrim explains, “We’re searching for things over Middle Earth to bring back to the Shire, our home. Lake-Town we’ve heard has lovely tapestries.”

    Legolas nods, “I’ve seen a few beautiful ones, and the Shire, you say?”

    Bella nods, “Lived there all our lives.”

    “But you’re Dwarves?”

    They both shake their heads, “We’re not Dwarves,” Bella says.

    “We’re half-Dwarf,” Grim corrects, “Our other half is Hobbit.”

    “Our Mother is a Hobbit,” Bella continues, “And we’ve never met our father. Mum doesn’t talk about him much.”

    Legolas nods again. “I will take you to my father, he can decide whether you may stay or not.” The twins nod and let Legolas lead them through the kingdom. He leads them to the Elf King, who, surprisingly, welcomes them to his home for as long as they need.

    “They are our guests, and they will be treated as such,” The Elf King says, “Legolas, give them rooms so that they may bathe and have the kitchens prepare them something to eat.”

    The prince nods and leads the twins away from the throne and toward the guest housing of the kingdom. He gives the twins their own rooms and informs them he’ll return when the kitchen’s completed their meal.

    “You’ll be okay on your own?” Grim asks.

    Bella nods wearily, “I’ll be fine, I just need to take a bath, eat, then sleep for three days.”

    Grim laughs and agrees and retreats into his room, he sits on the edge of the bed and tugs his boots and socks off. He sighs and starts pulling off his clothing as he makes his way to the connecting bathroom, leaving a trail behind him. He turns the tap on and lets the bath fill; when it’s full, he removes his smallclothes and steps into the bath. 

    He spends quite a bit of time in the bath, scrubbing himself clean. When he finally leaves the bath, his trail of clothing is missing, and a set of clothing rests at the end of his bed, as well as a small note apologizing if the clothes do not fit well enough, and they would be tailored to fit on request. The clothes were distinctly Elvish, but looked to be that of children’s clothing. Isengrim puts the clothing on, and discovered that though they fit nicely around, they are much too long. So, he rolls up the sleeves and the trouser legs and goes to the vanity to braid his hair.

    Isengrim frowns when he tries to braid his hair, the braids that are pulled back are usually done by Bella or his mother, and it’s difficult to do it himself. So he does his courting braid and stands to go next door. He knocks and waits for permission to enter, it comes and they sit on Bella’s bed. She braids his hair first, then he braids hers; then they sit and talk and wait for Legolas to return. The prince informs them of their meal much quicker than they anticipate. He leads them down to the kitchens and sits with them at a small table where they have their meal.

    “What is that braid behind your ear?” The prince asks Isengrim, “I can only assume it has some significance as your brother does not have one and it seems to not assist with keeping your hair away from your face.”

    “It’s a courting braid,” Isengrim explains, “A friend of ours in Hobbiton, our town’s blacksmith, they taught us about how Dwarves have specific braids for different things. So because I am courting, I have this one.”

    “What’s their name?” Legolas queries.

    “Elenion, my Elenion” Isengrim smiles fondly glancing down at his hands.

    “Here we go,” Bella says, rolling her eyes, “Now you’ve got him started.”

    “Quiet, you,” Grim says, causing his sister and the prince to laugh, “We’ve been courting for two years, and he is my everything. My star. We don’t see each other too often, only when business has us going to Rivendell, or like a few months ago, it was our birthday, so we decided to spend it in Rivendell. I know it hasn’t been very long, and neither of us are very old, he’s only fifteen hundred years old, and I’m twenty five. But, we love each other, very much.”

    Legolas smiles, “Well, I am happy for you.”

    “My thanks, Prince Legolas.”

    “Please, just ‘Legolas’ is fine,” the Elf insists. “Do you know when you’re to be married?”

    “Oh, not for quite some time,” the Halfling informs, “My mother insists that we wait for myself to become of age before we get married.”

    “Why?”

    “Well, she wants us to make sure we’re not making a mistake, like she says she had. She does not have fond memories of the years after our father abandoned us. She was our age when she became pregnant with us, too young to have children, and then our father left her without a word.”

    “I am sorry.”

    “Don’t be, we’ve gotten over it. And besides, the bad decisions of one Dwarf should not cloud your judgement, it didn’t for us. We travelled to the Blue Mountains not too long ago and most of the Dwarves there were quite pleasant.”

    Legolas nods and the twins tuck back into their food and soon enough, they’re wandering back to their rooms “Thank you for the meal, Legolas,” Bella says.

    “You’re very welcome, Bandobras,” He responds, “Have a fair evening, the both of you.”

    The twins nod and go to their respective rooms. Isengrim pulls off his shoes, tugs off his tunic, and flops onto the bed. He shoves the covers down so he can crawl underneath them, then pulls them over his body and up to his chin. He lies on his stomach and shoves his arms underneath the pillow then slips into warm embrace of sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank the Lord for copy and paste. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, I didn't work too had on it. lol no I did. I work really hard to make it not boring, or not detailed enough because looking over it before I rewrote it was hard because nothing was detailed, it was so bland! Sorry this seems short and rushed, bc it is, I'm writing this down as we're supposed to be leaving to pick up my sister from her friend's house.  
> I'm not going to bother with tumblr, bc if you actually want to follow me on tumblr you can check the end of the previous chapter. But I hoped you enjoyed it! Thank you for taking the time to read this fic, I really appreciate it.


	9. The Woodland Realm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I forgot about it being Friday until 11 o clock so... this is quite late, but I sure as hell am not waiting around until next Friday to post this stupid thing.

    Bilbo peels her eyes open and glances around, disoriented; she’s covered with some sort of mysterious, white, sticky binding and it’s corrupting her vision. She looks up to see that her surroundings are changing, like she’s being moved. Her brain slowly processes this accompanied with the scratching on her back as she being dragged along by something, probably on a large tree branch. She slowly blinks trying to wake up further, help her brain process faster. She lifts her head to see a giant spider dragging her along, and after a quick moment of shock and horror, she realizes it must be the same spider that trapped her in the first place; and that it must be taking her to the nest. She needs to get out of this, before it brings her to the nest, that’s the only way she’ll be able to get away and find her company. She wriggles lightly, trying to loosen the webs without breaking them so she can reach her sword. Once they’ve been loosened enough, she grabs her sword with both hands and straightens her arms so the web doesn’t look too tampered with. She fakes waking up so that she could get the attention of the spider. It growls and turns around, crawling over Bilbo’s body, ready to sting her again. But the Hobbit is too quick, she thrusts her sword upward and into the spider’s thorax, killing it. She then uses all her strength to push the spider off and to the side so that it would tumble to the forest floor.

    The Hobbit then sits up and tears at the webs, a disgusted shiver running down her spine. She picks off as much as she can in a rush, she can’t be nit-picky at the moment, or else she’ll be caught again. She quickly glances at her surroundings, making sure she can’t be seen by any of the spiders; she’s near the nest, practically inside it, and there are cocoons everywhere. Bodies wrapped tightly in the revolting webs. She slips on her ring without much thought, so that she could count the hanging bodies without having to worry about being captured. She counts them from where she’s standing, not wanting to get any further into the nest, and counts all fifteen of the company. She sighs in relief for only a moment before panicking because they’re not moving, just hanging there. It must be the spider’s poison, but eventually it should be removed from their system and they’ll wake up. She glances down at her sword and tilts her head; or she could just cut them down and force them to wake up by hitting solid ground it’ll be much faster. 

    She scans her surroundings and finds a broken off branch, then looks back up at the spider who crowd around what it obviously Bombur. Bilbo is surprised at the spider’s speaking, and it’s a wonder why she didn’t notice it when she first put her ring on. Their voices are horrible, like metal against glass, or the accidental scratching of a porcelain dish with a fork. She hates it and just wants it to stop, but can’t take off her ring to take the risk of being seen. As the spiders are speaking about feasting soon, Bombur awakens abruptly and begins thrashing and kicking at the giant spiders, causing them all to screech and to stick him once again with their stingers to put him back to sleep. Bilbo immediately finds this now to be the right time to intervene. She picks up the piece of branch and looks behind her for any more spiders; when there are none, she glances back to the spiders and tosses the branch off into the distance behind her.

    The spiders halt and look back to the direction of where the sound came from, suspicious of it, and all but one of them scatter to investigate. Bilbo rolls her eyes.  _ That’s just my luck, I suppose _ , she thinks to herself. But, she stands tall and braces herself for her inevitable confrontation with the spider, before slowly beginning to approach the creature. Her heart beats loudly in her chest and she’s almost afraid that the spider will hear it, but it seems to pay no mind to anything but the now unconscious Bombur. “Fat and Juicy,” it purrs, “just a little taste.” 

    Bilbo, of course, will not let that happen, Bombur is the only one of the Dwarves she can talk about cooking with and she won’t let anything happen to him. She doesn’t bother with proper technique and just brings the blade of her sword down onto the spider’s abdomen. The creature shrieks and whirls around to face its attacker, but is confused to find that there’s nothing behind it. Bilbo grins over that of the upper hand she has against the spider. She goes back in, attacking mostly at the spiders face and and front legs, and the spider attempts to defend itself from it’s invisible assailant. “Curse it!” it shrieks, “Where is it? Where is it?!”

    Bilbo removes her ring with a wolfish grin and holds her ring up. “Here.” She then drives her sword into the spider’s face and it cries out.

    “Stings! It stings!” it cries. It lets out one final cry before it’s legs curl underneath it and it fall from the branches, dead.

    Bilbo smiles triumphantly and laughs before looking at her blade. “Sting,” she mutters flipping her blade around, “That’s a good name.” She glances down the branches as if she were thanking the dead spider for the name suggestion. “Sting.” She quickly goes around the nest, cutting down the company so that they could all be awake and sober enough to fight the rest of the spider when they inevitably get back from investigating Bilbo’s distraction. Unfortunately for her, the spiders return to their nest much sooner than she expected. But thankfully, all the Dwarves and her children are safely on the ground and awake when they make their surprise return. 

    She watches from the trees as the company fights their way out of their bindings and reach for their weapons to fight the ever surrounding creatures. Bofur cries out for her, asking where she is, and when she responds, she’s startled by a spider crawling on the underside of the branch she’s resting on. She stabs at the spider, killing it when she drives her sword through it’s thorax, and it’s legs curl underneath Bilbo taking both of them down to the forest floor. In the fall, Bilbo’s ring tumbles out of her pocket and bounces off the branches, pulling it further away from her and into the forest. Once they hit the ground, Bilbo quickly removes herself from the spider’s grasp and begins to search for her ring. “Where is it?” she mutters, frantically searching the ground. She shuffles around on her knees and brushes at the loose dirt, hoping to catch a glimpse of gold. She squeezes her eyes shut in a moment of frustration and desperation, before glancing up; her heart flutters at the glimmer of gold not eight feet in front of her and she sighs in relief. She stands and brushes the dirt from her hands and knees before making her way over to retrieve it.

    She’s startled by the ground suddenly lifting and the large white spider crawling out of it. She shudders again, wanting the business with the large spiders to be over, and quickly. She quickly notices that the spider doesn’t seem to see her, or see anything at all, because it doesn’t charge at her like all the other spiders; but then again, the other spiders have large black eyes and Bilbo can’t see any eyes on this spider. The creature moves forward and Bilbo grips her sword firmly. The tip of its leg clinks against something, and it’s only then that Bilbo remembers that she was going to retrieve her ring. Her ring. The spider’s legs clink against her ring as it moves forward and something inside the Hobbit twists. 

_     It wants it. It’s trying to take it. It’s trying to take the ring.  _ Our _ ring.  _ Something in the back of Bilbo’s head whispers to her,  _ It wants our ring. Kill it, or it will take it. It will steal it from us. _

    Bilbo tilts her head and stares at the creature. Then something cracks, something animalistic and full of rage. The Hobbit cries out and charges at the beast, hacking and slashing at it mindlessly with no attempt at form or technique. The spider screeches and swipes its front legs trying to defend itself, but it only fuels Bilbo’s rage, the voice in the back of her mind telling her the spider wants to keep the ring for itself, and she attacks with more force, removing two of its limbs with one swipe of her blade. The spider rears back and she grabs Sting’s hilt with both hands and drives it up through the creature’s soft underbelly before pulling the sword out and driving through the armour on the spider’s back and into it’s head. The creature lets out on final wheeze before its legs curl underneath it and it dies.

    Bilbo pants out a few laughs before she yanks Sting out of the Spider and stumbles backwards, her knees are weak. She swipes the ring up from the dirt and presents it to the dead spider. “Mine.” She chuckles to herself and sits down, leaning against the trunk of a tree to admire her possession. After a few pants to get her breath back, her smile falls and she frowns at the trinket, then looks up at the deceased creature lying in front of her. Her breath hitches in her throat and she presses her back against the tree. Her vision becomes blurred and she squeezes her eyes shut, a few tears escaping and leaving tracks through the dirt on her face. She takes a few deep breaths, willing herself to not vomit, and wipes the tears from her face, then tucks her ring away in her pocket. After a few more deep breaths, Bilbo stands on shaking legs and leans against the tree beside her for support until her legs are not as weak. She gets away from the dead spider as quickly as she can and goes back to where she remembers the Company being. 

    She almost reveals herself by accident to the Elves that are currently capturing her company, but quickly hides away in the shrubbery. She can’t be seen, and as much as she hates to do it, she has to put her ring on. So, she psyches herself up and shoves the ring onto her finger. The muted world around her is familiar, but unsettling. She glances around at the large group and starts to count. She only counts thirteen, both of her children are nowhere to be seen. She sees the only blonde Elf in the group take Orcrist from another and admire it. She sees him speak to Thorin, and knows he must be asking a question, most likely where he got it from. She can only assume Thorin responds because the blonde Elf then sneers and points the blade at the Dwarf. He then calls out and the Elves begin to move. They shove the Dwarves into a single file line with two elves on either side of each Dwarf. Wood Elves are very different from Rivendell Elves; Elves from the Valley have mostly dark hair, it was rare that Bilbo saw an Elf with red or blonde hair, and they had more softer features, making them look more welcoming. Wood Elves are mostly red headed and they’re features are more sharp and angular, and they make them more intimidating. 

    The Hobbit tries to ignore the desperate call of her heart to turn back and find her children, but she stops and turns around to stare into the forest. She takes a deep breath and takes one step forward, deciding she would spend the rest of her life in this accursed forest looking for her children if she had to, when rustling to her right halts her movements. At first, she thinks it’s another spider and draws her sword to point it toward the sound. Her knees give and she almost cries out when Bella and Isengrim emerge from the brush and follow the Elves. As she travels behind the Elves, she is glad to find they are not all rude and apathetic, for she see’s the Elf walking alongside Balin does not push him, or rush the exhausted, old Dwarrow; and when Balin stumbles, the Elf reaches for him and helps him find his balance. 

    Assuring herself that her children would be fine on the outskirts of the forest until they figure something out, Bilbo trails quite closely behind the blonde Elf at the very back of the group, to hide her shadow within his; and startles quite hard when he stops suddenly to peer into the forest. She slips around him, taking one last glance into the forest before entering the kingdom. She pauses to stare at the kingdom with awe, the inside looks the same as the outside, if not for a few pillars and staircases. Most of everything looks to be made of living plants, and it amazes the Hobbit. She could not imagine living in a place entirely made up of living trees, save for a few stone statues and vases. She shakes herself out of her awe and steps into the shadows.

    The Elves carrying the Dwarves’ weapons split away from the rest of the group and continue down into the maze that is the Woodland Realm. She ignores them, declaring the weapons not a priority, and follows the Dwarves. She encounters a predicament when Thorin is led down a different path than the rest of the Company. The Company roars in outrage when he’s taken away, but the Elves just shove them back in line and continue walking. Bilbo decides that if the Dwarves continue to make such a racket, she’ll have no problem finding them when she goes looking, so she follows Thorin and the blonde Elf. They walk quite far into the kingdom to what appears to be a throne room. The Elf sat upon the throne is stunning; his eyes are a striking light blue that hold a threatening gaze, his pale blonde hair is free of braids and it is placed behind his shoulders, save for two sections draped over his shoulders, and his nose is long and straight and his cheekbones are high on his face. He’s beautiful and Bilbo can’t help but stare, she’s heard of the beauty of Elves, and the Elves of Rivendell were certainly beautiful, but none of them can compare to beauty of that of the Elven King. He wears a crown made of branches that contain small red compound leaves and a robe made of what appears to be metallic fabric.

    He stares at Thorin for a long moment before standing from his throne. “Thank you, Legolas, you may leave.” The other Elf gives a curt nod before turning on his heel and leaving. Legolas, Bilbo remembers, is King Thranduil’s son, the only son between the King and his late wife. The Elf King slowly makes his way down the stairs that curve away from the throne, his gaze never leaving Thorin’s. The atmosphere in the room grows more fiery with each step Thranduil takes. Bilbo could almost mistake this moment with intimacy, had she not already been aware of the burning hatred between the two. The image of the two kings in an intimate embrace with deep, hateful scowls on their faces nearly makes Bilbo giggle, but she remembers that she can’t be seen or heard or she’ll be thrown into the dungeons as well, so she covers her mouth and laughs on the inside. Neither of them speak for quite some time as Thranduil circles around Thorin like a predator circles its prey, and Bilbo starts to become bored.

    Finally, after a good five minutes of neither of them speaking, Thranduil breaks the silence. “What were you doing in my forest?” Thorin just glowers at him and doesn’t speak. Bilbo rolls her eyes, it’s obvious that the Elf King knows exactly why they’re in the forest and that he just wants to prod at Thorin and make him angry. Thranduil smirks at Thorin’s dark glare and continues speaking. “Some may imagine that a noble quest is at hand,” he begins, “A quest to reclaim a homeland and slay a dragon. I myself suspect a more prosaic motive. Attempted burglary, or something of that ilk.” Thranduil stares down at Thorin, another smirk tugging at his lips. “You have found a way in. You seek that which would bestow upon you the right to rule. The King’s Jewel, the Arkenstone. It is precious to you beyond measure.” The Elf King grins, and Bilbo doesn’t like it. It’s not a friendly grin, it is a malicious grin; one that intends to do harm by manipulation, and suddenly the Elf King is no longer beautiful in Bilbo’s eyes. “I understand that. There are gems in the mountain that I too desire. White gems of pure starlight. I offer you my help.” Thranduil bows his head and waits for the Dwarf’s response.

    “I am listening.” Thorin’s words surprise Bilbo, she honestly suspected the Dwarf King to spit in Thranduil’s face.

    “I will let you go, if you but return what is mine.” 

    When Thorin turns on his heel, Bilbo shuts her eyes in frustration, things are about to take a turn for the worst. “A favor for a favor.”

    “You have my word. One  _ King _ to another.”

    Thorin’s face turns to a scowl. “I would not trust Thranduil, the great king, to honor his word, should the end of all days be upon us!” Bilbo sighs softly and covers her face. “You, who lack all honor! I’ve seen how you treat your  _ friends _ . We came to you once, starving, homeless, seeking your help. But you turned your back. You turned away from the suffering of my people, and the inferno that destroyed us.  **Imrid amrad ursul** !”

    “Do not talk to me of dragonfire!” Bilbo looks up from her hands to see Thranduil bent nearly in half to put his face in Thorin’s. “I know it’s wrath and ruin.” Bilbo watches in horror as Thranduil’s face transforms. His smooth cheek fades into a large hole, one only held together by the strings of muscle in his cheek, and his left eye fades to white. “I have faced the great serpents of the North.” The Elf King quickly straightens and takes a step backward, his face returns to normal. “I warned your grandfather of what his greed would summon. He would not listen.” Thranduil turns and starts up the stairs to his throne. “You are just like him.” He waves his hand and the previously still-as-statues guards spring to grab Thorin, making the Hobbit startle, and begin to drag him away. “Stay here if you will, and rot. A hundred years is a mere blink in the life of an Elf. I’m patient, I can wait.” 

    Bilbo watches the guards take Thorin, who’s shouting in Khuzdul, away and decides not to follow. She assumes he’ll be taken to where the others are, so she stays to observe the Elven King. Once the guards are far enough away, the King collapses onto his throne with a sigh and presses his fingertips against his temple. Thranduil seems exhausted, because of Thorin or because of being a King, Bilbo cannot tell; the former she knows can be exhausting, the latter she can only imagine. The Elf reaches for the brooch on his chest and fiddles with it for a moment while staring off into space; he is only brought out of his daydreaming when his son calls for him. “Ada! Let me introduce Isengrim and Bandobras Took, they are in need of a place to stay before they return on their journey to Esgaroth.”

    Bilbo is surprised to see how well the Twins cleaned themselves up, they have no trace of spiderwebs on them anymore and only a few bits of dirt on their boots and clothing. They appear to have rebraided their hair to make it neater, and cleaned the dirt from their faces. Thranduil raises an eyebrow and the twins bow to him. “I apologize, King Thranduil, for my brother and I appearing before you so late, but we did not expect the travel to your kingdom to take so long. We ask to stay in your halls until we are able to continue onward.” Isengrim straightens from his bow. “If you are unable to offer us rooms, we only ask if you would lend us a guide through the rest of the forest.”

    Thranduil tilts his head. “What business do you have in Esgaroth?” he asks.

    “We wish to bring things from all over Middle Earth back to our home in the Shire,” Bella answers, “Most Hobbits do not make it passed Bree, and my brother and I wish to show those who have never seen anything from beyond the world of Men what comes from the other lands. Lake-Town, we’ve heard, makes beautiful tapestries, and we’d like to see for ourselves.”

    Thranduil nods slowly. “The Shire, you say?”

    “We’ve lived there all our lives,” Isengrim says with a nod, “With our Mother.”

    “And you’re mother is a Halfling?”

    The Twins frown. “We are called Hobbits, and we’re not half of anything, thank you very much.” Bilbo can’t help but smile at her children, they remind her of herself in so many ways, but they’re also so different than how she was.

    Thranduil bows his head. “My apologies. And what of your father?”

    Bella shrugs. “Never met him. We know he’s a Dwarf, obviously, but we don’t know anything about him. Only that he left our mother before we were born, and ya’know, the dark hair and blue eyes had to come from somewhere. But Mum doesn’t like talking about him, so we don’t ask.”

    Thranduil’s smirk is visible for a fraction of a second before it disappears. “I see. I welcome you, Isengrim and Bandobras Took, to my halls. You may stay as long as you need.” Thranduil frowns at Legolas’ surprised look. “They are our guests and shall be treated as such,” he says, “Legolas, give them rooms so that they may bathe and have the kitchens prepare them something to eat.” The Elf Prince nods and leads the twins away. Thranduil watches them walk away with an odd look, it seems fond but sad. After sitting for a moment, the king stands and starts to leave the throne room. Bilbo follows behind closely, but not too close. He goes far down into the kingdom where stone and tree mingle together, to what appears to be a bathing room. Bilbo’s cheeks flush as Thranduil begins to undress and she turns away to avoid seeing anything she doesn’t want to. 

    She debates on leaving the bathing room for a good while, but decides not to in fear that she would get lost, so she stays hidden in the shadows, avoiding looking at the ( _ naked _ , her mind supplies) Elf King. She is grateful once the Elf leaves the bath, thinking he would dry himself off and dress himself; but, of course, he does not. He leaves the bath and immediately goes to pour himself a glass of wine, water still dripping from his skin. Sure, it is an attractive sight, but Bilbo would rather not see any more of the Elf King than she already has. Thankfully, after the first glass of wine, the Elf picks up a towel and dries his body before dressing in more casual clothes and drapes a robe over his shoulders; then he gets another glass. Bilbo takes the chance when his back in turned to make toward the stairs. She hears a noise, as does Thranduil, for his head snaps to look in her direction. Bilbo, unsure if the noise came from her or not, freezes and hold her breath. “I know you’re there,” Thranduil says, “Why do you linger in the shadows?”

    Bilbo’s heart stops, thinking she had blown her cover. “I was coming to report to you.” She sighs in relief as the redheaded she-Elf from before makes her way down the stairs. Bilbo then decides it too risky to go back up the stairs, so she’ll go down further and hopefully make her way back to where she remembers the Company being taken, but for now, she’ll listen to see if this conversation will have any useful information.

    “I thought I ordered that nest to be destroyed not two moons past,” Thranduil states, annoyed.

    “We cleared the forest as ordered, My Lord,” she says, beginning to pace, “But more spiders keep coming up from the South. They are spawning in the ruins of Dol Guldur; if we could kill them at their source-”

    “That fortress lies beyond our borders,” the Elf King interrupts, “Keep our lands clear of those foul creatures, that is your task.”

    “And when we drive them off, what then?” She asks, not ceasing her pacing, “Will they not spread to other lands?” Bilbo decides, now, that she’s had enough of listening and begins to cross the room to the other set of stairs.

    “Other lands are not my concern,” Thranduil states, “The fortunes of the world will rise and fall, but here, in this kingdom, we will endure.” Bilbo’s foot slips on the stone staircase, making a not-so-quiet noise, and she freezes again, feeling the eyes of the Elf King staring at her, though she knows he cannot see her. “Legolas said you fought well today.” Bilbo then takes this as her cue to leave, and does so.

 

    Unfortunately for the Hobbit, finding her Dwarves is not as simple of a task as she’d originally thought. The Woodland Realm is indeed a maze, with many twists and turns; and it all looks identical, making it extremely difficult to know where she’s been before, and where she hasn’t. It’s two days after they’ve been captured that Bilbo spots her children with the Prince, walking through the halls. She can only assume it’s night time, as she cannot actually see outside, but assumes based off minimal activity during those hours and when she becomes tired. She decides to follow them, hoping that they’re heading to the Twins’ rooms. Her hopes are not for naught, and they arrive to the rooms given to the Twins. She waits for the Elf to leave, then waits a good few minutes after that to make sure he’s far enough away, and knocks on Isengrim’s door. 

    Her child opens the door with a confused expression, his brow furrows further when he sees there’s no one at the door. He even goes far enough to steps out into the hall to look down it to see who could have knocked on his door. Bilbo slips around him and into his room and waits for him to enter and the door to latch before pulling off her ring. Her son lets out a squawk and startles at her sudden presence. “Mum?” He asks, yanking his mother in for a hug, “What are you doing here?”

    “Looking for you,” she says, “And the company, of course. But I haven’t had much luck with finding them. This place looks exactly the same everywhere you go, I’ll admit I’ve gotten lost a few times.”

    “How did you get here? You appeared out of nowhere!”

    “It’s a long story, Grim. One I’d rather not go into at the moment.”    

    “Well, just stay here for a moment, I’ll get Bella.” Bilbo nods and takes a seat on the bed. Bella enters the room and darts over to her mother, gathering her in a hug. Bilbo laughs and hugs her daughter back just as tightly, and once Bella lets go, the small family sits and discusses their current situation and plans out their next moves.

    Bilbo nearly weeps when she finds the company nearly two weeks later, and as much as she wants to run in and greet them, she knows there are guards and they have shifts. So, over the next few days, she tracks the guards, learning their rounds and how much time it takes when one leaves until the next arrives. It’s not too long, but the Elves seem content with leaving the Dwarves alone for a long period of time, as they know they cannot escape. The only flaw in the system seems to only be one guard, Tauriel, the captain. She doesn’t just do her rounds and check on the Dwarves, after she does that, she sits and talks with Kili for a significant amount of time. So when Bilbo actually goes down to talk to the Dwarves, she makes sure it’s before Tauriel does her rounds, so she has more time to talk to them. 

    Once the Elf is hopefully out of earshot, Bilbo pulls off her ring and scampers down to Balin’s cell. “Balin,” she whispers, “it’s me, Bilbo.”

    Balin looks up and rushes over to the cell door. “Bilbo!” His voice s a bit too loud for Bilbo’s liking, so she shushes him.

    “Not so loud, please, I’m afraid there might be guards nearby.”

    “How did you get here?”

    Bilbo sighs. “It’s a long story, one I’d rather not go into at the moment. I don’t have much time before the next guard comes.” Balin nods in understanding. “Is everyone here?”

    “Thorin is not.”

    “They didn’t bring him here with you?” Balin shakes his head sadly. “Damn. I’ll find him, I’ve got to. We’ll be out of here, I promise. Hopefully soon, though I can’t say how long it’ll take for us to escape.”

    “What of Bella and Isengrim?”

    “They’re here. They’ve been posing as travelers and they’re allowed to stay here as long as they need. They’ve been named the King’s Guests as an apology for mistaking them for part of the Dwarvish Company in their dungeons.”

    “As long as they need?” Bilbo nods in confirmation. “That will certainly help us, but won’t it be suspicious when they leave shortly after we do?”

    “We’re hoping they’ll leave before we do, but there’s no telling what’ll happen. They said there’s a feast soon, and with an Elvish party, there will be plenty of wine and plenty of hungover Elves in the morning. And, if we’re lucky, an easy escape for us.”

    “Are you sure?”

    Bilbo nods. “I’ve just got to figure out our means of escaping. I’ll look for Thorin, do you want to send a message for him when I do?”

    “I think that would be good for him. All alone wherever he is.” Bilbo nods and Balin gives her his message, and she goes around to the other Dwarves asking if they’ve got anything they’d like to share with Thorin, then she scampers off again before the guard comes.

    It is not that night, but the night after when Bilbo hears that Bella knows where Thorin is. She’s sitting on Isengrim’s bed, picking at the dirt underneath her nails, wondering where it came from, when her daughter enters the room. “There you are,” Grim says, exasperated, “What were you doing?”

    “I was talking with Tauriel,” she answers. Grim rolls his eyes and shuts the door to his rooms. “Mum, I’ve got incredible news. I know where Thorin is.” Bilbo nearly leaps from the bed to stand in front of her daughter.

    “Where is he?”

    Belladonna takes a deep breath. “I can’t tell you.”

    “What?”

    “I can’t tell you,” she repeats, “Tauriel has entrusted me with this information so I can't tell you where he is.” Bilbo blinks in shock. “What I can tell you is that you should listen, and listen closely, to the guards, mainly when they’re taking the Dwarves their breakfast and dinner. You will find him easily if you just listen.”

    Bilbo sighs and gently rests her hands on her daughter’s upper arms. “Darling, I’m very glad you’ve made a friend, but I need to know where he is.”

    Bella shrugs her mother’s hands off her arms and frowns. “I cannot give you that information, I won’t betray my friend’s trust. If you just listen to the guards, and watch them, you’ll find him on your own.” The Halfling then turns on her heel and marches back to her own room.

    Bilbo sighs and presses the heels of her palm into the eyes. “I wish she would just tell me, but I can’t say I’m not proud of her for standing up for what she believes in.” The Hobbit sighs and shrugs off her coat. “I’m tired. Good night, Grim.”

    “Good night, Mum.”

    Bilbo crawls into the over large bed and lets herself drift off to sleep.

    It, surprisingly, doesn’t take Bilbo long to find Thorin, a few days actually. She does what her daughter told her to do, and learns of the Dwarf being held in the lower dungeons. Then she notices that when the meals go to the Dwarves, one Elf splits from the rest and takes a different path. She figures that’s where Thorin is, and waits for the evening meal the following day to trail behind the Elf so she can inform the rest of the company that she believes she knows where Thorin is. She gets a recap of the messages that the Company wants to send to Thorin and when it comes time for the evening meal, she follows the guard down the dark path.

    She makes sure to stay far enough behind so that the Elf’s torch doesn’t give her a shadow, but close enough that she doesn’t get lost. Though, as much as she hates to admit it, her ring certainly helps with seeing in the dark. The Elf pauses in front of a cell and Bilbo swiftly moves around to his other side to hide in the darkness. “You need to eat, Dwarf. My King would not be pleased to find you starved to death.” The tray clatters against the stone and a scraping noise finds its way into Bilbo’s ears, the Elf must have slid it across the stone floor. The guard then turns and goes back the way he came, and once his torch could not longer be seen and his light footsteps no longer heard, Bilbo reveals herself to Thorin; but not before removing her ring. She knows Dwarves need only the smallest amount of light to be able to see, and there are faintly lit torches every few yards on the wall behind the Hobbit. And while the Hobbit herself could not see very well, she’d rather have Thorin be able to see her instead of there just being a disembodied voice. She’s still not keen on letting anyone know about her magic ring just yet.  
“Thorin.” The Dwarrow’s head snaps up but he doesn’t look at the cell door, he only frowns deeply and wraps his arms further around himself and looks at the wall. “Thorin, look at me, it’s Bilbo.” This time he does look and his face is one of shock, and relief, or at least that’s what Bilbo thinks it is, she still can’t see very well. He shuffles over to kneel behind the cell door, mirroring Bilbo’s position.

    “It’s you, it’s really you,” Thorin says, so softly that Bilbo almost isn’t sure she actually heard it.

    “Of course it’s me, silly,” she replies with a smile when Thorin reaches through the bars to touch her face, “Who else would it be?”

    Thorin looks away, sad, and takes his hand back, resting it on his thigh. “It’s lonely down here, and quiet. My imagination plays tricks on me often.” Bilbo reaches through the bars and lays a hand over Thorin’s.

    “Well, I’m here now and I’ll be back every day until we escape.”

    “How did you find me?”

    “Listening. These Mirkwood Elves like to gossip like old ladies, I tell you.” Thorin laughs and Bilbo continues. “And then I followed that one down here. Have you not been eating, Thorin?” The Dwarf huffs. “Thorin?” she asks more sternly, folding her arms across her chest.

    “They say Thranduil would be  _ displeased _ with discovering I starved to death, so I figured if I have to spend the rest of my life here, it would be to  _ displease _ him.”

    “Have you been eating nothing?”

    “Of course not. I’ll eat as little as I am able to and then I kick the tray back underneath the door.”

    Bilbo groans and rubs at her face. “You need to start eating. If we’re going to get out of here, you need to have your full strength. So start eating all of your food.”

    Thorin grumbles to himself and pulls the tray towards him. “Have you been eating?” he asks, biting into the piece of bread he was given.

    “Not as much as I’d like, but I am. Bella and Isengrim leave me a few things around the kingdom to snack on while I explore and try not to get caught.”

    “They’re here too?”

    Bilbo nods. “They’ve been named the King’s Guests. They say it’s an apology for mistaking them as a part of your company, but I don’t think so.”

    “Why?”

    “When the Prince introduced them to his father, something was odd. I didn’t like it. I fear he plans to use them against you.”

    Thorin pauses his eating. “What do you mean?”

    “He believes they’ve never met you, it’s part of their facade. I’m not sure if he believes that you know about them, though. It seems as though he think you don’t know they exist, and he’ll use them against you somehow.”

    “How so?”

    Bilbo shrugs. “I don’t know. I just really did not like the smirk on his face when they said they never met their father.” The Hobbit worries her lip before taking a deep breath. “Other than that, though, they say the King is surprisingly pleasant. They think they’ve grown on him, and they say he enjoys my pies. The Twins have been making a few pies here and there for the Elves to enjoy.”

    “What of the others in the company?”

    “They’re all together in the same dungeon, they each have their own cell. Some of them have messages for you, if you’d like to hear them.”

    Thorin nods fiercely. “I would like to hear them.”

    “Would you like them in any specific order?”

    “Can I have Fili and Kili’s first?”

    Bilbo nods with a smile and searches through the depths of her mind to find the messages. “Kili says that he hopes you’re doing well and that the Elves aren’t treating you too badly. He also says that they’ve stopped giving he and Fili apples because they were throwing the seeds at the guards.” Thorin chuckles fondly.

    “What of Fili?”

    “She says that Dwalin is an annoying neighbor, to which Dwalin replied that she wasn’t the best neighbor either.” The Dwarf snorts. “She also wanted you to know that Kili is flirting with one of the guards, because she knows Kili won’t tell you.”

    “Flirting?”

    “That’s how she explained it. But I witnessed it for myself and it’s not really flirting. It’s really them just keeping each other company for a few minutes a day, just talking about little things, stories of their past and things they like to to do.” Bilbo pauses, before continuing after Thorin doesn’t respond. “She’s a very nice person, actually, I’ve never met her myself but the Twins and Kili seem to like her a lot. She’s the Captain of the Guard as well, very fierce and very talented. She’s loyal, honorable, and full of heart; and she is also young, and brash, and hard-headed. She sounds familiar doesn’t she?”

    “Like Kili,” Thorin says with a nod, “But she’s an Elf.”

    Bilbo sighs softly. “Thorin, I understand that it’s hard to change something about yourself that you’ve believed for so long, but you need to at least try to get over this hatred of Elves. You can hate Thranduil and all the other Elves that are known to hate Dwarves to your heart’s content, but don’t blame the rest of the Elves for listening to their King’s orders.”

    Thorin sighs and cups his face. “I suppose I could give them the benefit of the doubt before their true colors are shown.”

    “Or, you could try and be like myself and treat everyone with respect until they leave, and then you can grumble curses behind their back until you feel better.”

    Thorin laughs fondly. “Do you do that often?”

    “Too often,” Bilbo answers, “Annoying relatives and neighbors come around to Bag End much too often for my liking. But it isn’t very respectable to be rude to a visitor’s face, so most Hobbits do it once they leave the smial. I can remember my father spewing such horrible words once a cousin of his had left Bag End, it was the first time I heard his curse with such venom and it was surprising to say the least.” Bilbo chuckles to herself. “My mother and I burst into laughter once he finally finished.”

    The two of them laugh for a moment, and Thorin worries his lip. “Do they… do they love each other?”

    Bilbo shrugs her shoulders. “I don’t know. I don’t think they know either. But I believe what they have is something special, and that it could be the start of something new, something extraordinary. The beginning of a new era, one where Elves and Dwarves are no longer at each other’s throats.” Thorin hums. “They always shake hands when Tauriel leaves, I’ve noticed. I think it’s just to touch.” Bilbo uses this chance to take Thorin’s hand, and they smile softly at each other.

    “What of the others?” The Dwarrow asks, “Their messages?”

    “Oh, of course. Anyone you want first?”

    “Balin’s?”

    “Okay.”

    Bilbo pulls Balin’s message to the front of her mind and recites it to the Dwarf King, then goes through the rest of the messages, and explains their plan for their escape so far; Then Bilbo bids Thorin farewell, promising to return the following day, and slips on her ring and leaves the dungeon.

    The following morning, Thorin goes over Bilbo’s words and when the Elf comes down to retrieve last night’s tray and to give him his breakfast, he cooperates. He pushes the empty tray under the door and takes the full one without fuss, even going as far as to thank the Elf. This confuses the Elf and they stand at the door, holding the empty tray awkwardly before turning and leaving the dungeons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There I hope you liked this one, blah blah blah. I managed to get this just above my minimum word count where I wanted it to end. If you've read this before you might remember this chapter ended with the company already in Dale, but no, I've managed to actually put detail into my writing instead of just typing what I saw on my tv (or phone) screen.   
> I don't want to type anymore, so no tumblr. if you really want it, you can go to one of the previous chapters to get it, but I doubt anyone who is reading this want it, so. I'm realizing I sound super unenthusiastic about this new chapter and extremely ungrateful for the people who are reading it, but I don't mean to. I'm really grateful that people actually took time out of their day to read this garbage, so thank you.  
> and technically I'm posting this six minutes passed midnight, but shush. it is not April 1st, it's March 31st.


	10. Barrels out of Bond

    Bilbo lies awake on the floor beside her daughter’s bed. She was woken earlier by knocking at the door and when the door opened without warning, she had to slip out of the comfortable bed and onto the floor before the Elf saw her. She didn’t bother getting back in the bed, since she knows she won’t fall back asleep. So she lies on the floor staring at the ceiling, and tries to will herself to get up. But she doesn’t want to. She just wants to lay down and sleep for a few ages and probably cry a bit from stress, and then go home; but she knows she can’t. She has to get up, tell the others she found Thorin, and then figure out a way for them to leave; and after all that, they still have to get to the mountain and kill a dragon. With a heavy sigh, Bilbo rubs a rough hand down her face and sits up. She has to wait for her children to leave the room before she can leave herself, and they won’t be awake until someone comes knocking on the door. So, she wanders to the bathroom and takes a bath. As she sits in the tub, scrubbing away the dirt and sweat from her skin, she thinks about how grateful she is that her children weren’t captured by the Elves with the rest of the company; she couldn’t imagine going these few weeks without bathing or eating. 

    Remembering that today was the day Legolas would be taking Bella and Isengrim to their wine cellars, Bilbo makes sure to following them to the cellars, so she knows where they are, before turning back and going to the dungeons to inform the company that Thorin had been found and that they are getting closer to finding a way out. It might have been a smidge of a lie, but they only have five days before the Feast and they need to find a way out. Luckily, that exactly what they did. After her nightly talk with Thorin, Bilbo goes back upstairs and slips into her daughter’s room for the night. “Ah, Mum! There you are!” she says giddily.

    “What are you so excited for?” Bilbo asks with a chuckle.

    “I know how we’re getting out.”

    Bilbo’s heart skips a beat. “You do? How?”

    “The wine cellars.”

    “The what?”

    “The cellars!” Bella repeats, “Isengrim remembered reading about the system that the Wood Elves use to trade with Esgaroth. They use the river that leads to the lake to send their barrels down to the bargeman that waits at the mouth to collect the barrels so that they can be cleaned and refilled, then sent back up to the forest. In the cellars, there is a trap door that they use to send the barrels down.”

    “I think I know what you’re getting at, but could you please elaborate?”

    “The Feast of Starlight is coming up, it’s apparently a really big party where nearly everyone drinks until they pass out. And everyone knows Elves can hold their wine, so they’ll open plenty of barrels, certainly more than the amount of members in the company.”

    Bilbo stares at her daughter. “You’re telling me to put the company in barrels and send them down the river?” she asks.

    “Yes?” Bella replies, confused.

    “They are not going to like that, but I suppose there’s no other option. Thank you dear, I’ll make sure to check it tomorrow.”

    And so she does, she goes down first thing the next morning, but doesn’t see them send them down, so between her daily tasks she goes to the cellars to see if she can catch them sending the empty barrels down. She manages to do so before she goes down to see Thorin, and she grins widely before scampering out of the cellars and making her way to Thorin’s cell. When she arrives and removes her ring after the Elf guard leaves, Thorin notices her excitement.

    “You’re enthusiastic about something,” he observes with a chuckle, “what for?”

    “I know how we’re getting out.”

    Thorin nearly drops his tray and presses himself against the bars. “How?” he asks, his eyes wide as saucers.

    “I’m not sure how to tell you, because I’m afraid you might reject the idea,” Bilbo admits shyly.

    “I will do anything to get out of this wretched place, I promise,” he assures her.

    The Hobbit looks at him with hesitance. “You swear?” The Dwarf nods firmly and Bilbo sighs. “Alright, do you remember learning about how the Elves of Mirkwood traded with the Men of Laketown?”

    Thorin nods. “Of course, they sent their empty barrels down the river to be refilled and delivered-- No.”

    “Thorin.”

    “No!”

    “Keep your voice down!”

    “I will not climb into a barrel and float down a river, no. Find another way.”

    Bilbo huffs. “This is why I didn’t want to say anything. Thorin, the Feast of Starlight is in three days, if you want to be out of this place as soon as possible, you are going to climb into one of those barrels whether you like it or not.” Thorin frowns. “If you would rather stay down here for the rest of your days, fine. But we’re leaving this place in three days, with or without you. But judging from your reaction, I’m sure everyone else will not be too fond of climbing into a barrel either. So I’m not telling them how we’re getting out until it’s time. And if all of you refuse, then Bella, Isengrim, and I will leave and you will stay down here debating on if your dignity was worth it.” Thorin begins to chuckle. “What?”

    The Dwarf shakes his head. “It’s nothing.”

    “You’re laughing at me, but I’m serious. We will leave and we will go home, and you will all stay here.”

    “We’ll get in the barrels, I’ll make sure of it.”

    “Good.”

 

    The night of the Feast, Bilbo follows around the guardsman who holds the keys to the cells, trying to gauge how she will get them from him. Her solution becomes clear when another Elf encourages him to drink with him and a few other Elves. She knows it will take some time before they become drunk enough for her to take the keys, so she leaves the cellar and makes her way to the dungeons where the company is being held, so she can inform them of their imminent escape. But when she gets there, Tauriel is standing outside Kili’s cell. The Hobbit groans inwardly, while she is sure she would adore Tauriel if she ever met her and it’s incredibly sweet that she enjoys talking to Kili, it’s quite annoying when she wastes Bilbo’s time. But rather than leaving, Bilbo stays perched on the walkway up one and across from Kili’s cell, so she can look down and see and hear both of them clearly.

    “My mother gave it to me so I would remember my promise,” Kili says, fiddling with something in his hands. Bilbo deduces it must be the little green rune stone, both in his hands and what he’s talking about.

    “What promise?” Tauriel queries, her head tilting slightly to the side.

    “That I would come back to her,” the Dwarrow answers, “she worries.” He tosses the stone in the air, and if Bilbo didn’t know Kili, she would assume he was tossing it to show off, but she does. So she knows that Kili tosses the stone when he’s nervous or deep in thought. “She think’s I’m reckless.”

    “Are you?” The Elf asks, amusement in her tone.

    “Nah,” Kili replies, a half smile tugging at his lips. He tosses the stone again, but fails to catch it this time, and it skitters across the stone toward the edge of the walkway. Acting swiftly, Tauriel stops the stone with her boot by lightly stepping on it, then picks it up and holds it in the light, tilting it to look at the engraving. Kili slips off the cot in the cell and stands at the bars, watching the Elf.

    “What does it say?” she asks.

    “Return to me,” Kili answers, “Fili has one as well, it’s the same thing, our mother gave one to us both. We’re all she has now, aside from Uncle Thorin.” Kili looks down at his hands. A sudden bout of loud laughter coming from above causes the three of them to look up at the source of the sound. “Sounds like quite the party you’re having up there,” the Dwarrow comments.

    Tauriel nods and turns away from Kili’s cell, the stone still held safely in her palm. “It is  _ Mereth e-nGilith, _ ” she informs, “The Feast of Starlight. All light is sacred to the Eldar. But, Wood Elves loves best the light of the stars.”

    Kili leans against the bars of the cell door. “I always thought it is a cold light,” he admits, “Remote and far away.”

    Tauriel turns back to look at the young prince, and Bilbo can no longer see her face. “It is memory,” the Elf says, “Precious and pure. Like your promise.” She hold out the stone for Kili to take, and he does.She looks up and around, then back at Kili. “I have walked there sometimes,” She tells, turning away again, “Beyond the forest and up into the night. I have seen the world fall away and the white light of Forever fill the air.” Tauriel’s face is full of awe, and Bilbo cannot imagine the beauty of what the Elf is describing. 

    Looking at Kili, Bilbo can see his expression is an amalgamation of awe, curiosity, and adoration. “I saw a Fire Moon once,” he says, causing Tauriel to turn back around and approach his cell, “It rose over the pass near Dunland. Huge. Red and gold, it was. It filled the sky.” She sits at the bottom stair by the door and Kili wraps his hands around the bars and rests his forehead against the door. “We were an escort for some merchants from Ered Luin. They were trading silverwork for furs. We took the Greenway South, keeping the mountain to our left. And then it appeared. This huge Fire Moon, lighting our path.”

    As Bilbo turns to go back the way she came, deciding that it would be best just to leave now and prepare for the escape rather than wait for Tauriel to leave to talk with the Dwarves, she notices the Elf Prince glaring down at the guard and prisoner. She sits there awkwardly until he turns and leaves and then makes her way back to the cellar. As she watches the Elves drink, another makes their way down the stairs. “These barrels should have been sent back to Esgaroth hours ago, the bargeman will be waiting,” they scold. The other Elves brush them off and encourage them to drink with them, and fortunately, they accept.

    Bilbo sits in the dark corner for what feels like hours waiting for these Elves to drink themselves to sleep. When it finally happens, and all of them rest their heads on their arms or on the table, Bilbo snatches up the keys and dashes first to Thorin’s cell. “Bilbo?” the Dwarrow questions as the Hobbit tries every key in Thorin’s cell before finding the correct one and opening the door.

    “Come on, we don’t have much time,” she says, tugging on Thorin’s hand. She leads him out of the dungeon and hides him away near the cellars. “Just wait here, I’ll be right back.” She darts away and slips on her ring once she’s out of his sight. She swiftly makes her way down to the dungeons where the other are being held.

    “I’ll bet the sun is on the rise,” she hears Bofur say, “It must be nearly dawn.”

    “We’re never gonna make it to the mountain, are we?” Ori asks.

    Bilbo tugs her ring off and smiles. “Not stuck in here you’re not,” she says. The company all rush to their cell door, shouting Bilbo’s name. “Keep it down! There are guards nearby!” she scolds as she begins unlocking their cells. After they’ve all been freed, Bilbo leads them out of the dungeons and to the cellars where they meet with a nervous Thorin. “Come now,” she says opening the door the the cellar and leading them down to the barrels.

    “I don’t believe it, we’re in there cellars!” Kili whispers.

    “You’re supposed to be leading us out not further in!” Bofur comments.

    “I know what I’m doing,” Bilbo says, only to be shushed by the hatted dwarf. “Everyone, please, climb into the barrels, we don’t have much time. They should be discovering you being gone right about now.”

    “Are you mad?” Dwalin asks, “They’ll find us.”

    “No they won’t, I promise. Please. You must trust me.”

    The Dwarves grumble amongst themselves, but make no move to climb into the barrels. Bilbo sighs and gives Thorin a pleading look. “Do as she says,” he whispers, and the company start to climb into the barrels. Thorin lays a gentle hand on her shoulder as he passes her to climb inside a barrel and she reaches up to touch his elbow, a grateful smile on her face.

    “What do we do now?” Bofur asks once they’ve all climbed into a barrel.

    “Hold your breath,” Bilbo orders.

    “Hold my breath?” Bofur repeats, “What do you mean?”

    Bilbo pulls the lever and the door opens and the barrels start to roll, the dwarves yelling as they go down into the water below.  _ Bilbo Baggins you are a genius _ , Bilbo thinks to herself as she giddily prances around on her toes,  _ You are an absolute-- Shit.  _ Bilbo freezes and stares at the closed trapdoor. _ You are an absolute idiot! How could you forget about yourself!  _ She glances around nervously, no doubt are the company already floating down the river, leading her stranded here to be found by the Elves.

    “Where is the keeper of the keys?!” Bilbo panics and shuffles backwards away from the staircase and the source of the voice, only to have the trapdoor open under her weight since she left the lever pulled. She tumbles backwards and lands in the freezing river water, she thrashes a bit before the back of her coat is grabbed and she’s pulled above the water.

    She grips the barrel with all her strength and looks up at her savior with gratitude. Nori gives her a concerned look and she returns it with an exhausted one. The Dwarf then grips the back of her coat a bit tighter and looks forward. She does the same and sees Thorin straining to hold the barrels from going down the river. “Well done, Miss Baggins.” The Hobbit waves her hand and the Dwarf lets go of the stone, letting the barrels be pushed forward by the current.

    Bilbo stays latched onto Nori’s barrel for most of the ride down the river. And it was not a joyous ride either. They’re being chased by not only the Elves that captured them, but also the Orcs that want to kill them. She doesn’t remember much of the chase, only that she was wet and cold and moving much too fast. Also that they were under constant attack by Orcs, which causes Kili to become wounded when he attempts to pull the lever at the gate to help them escape and continue down the river. He’s shot by an arrow, a particularly nasty looking arrow, clearly made by Orcs, and falls. He’s nearly killed then, but a surprise arrow, shot by an Elf kills the Orc and Kili gets back up and pulls the lever, opening the gate, before tumbling back into his barrel, causing the arrow to snap where it’s embedded in his leg.

    Eventually and thankfully, they lost the Orcs due to the strong current, but they also lost the current as they got closer to the mouth of the lake. So they pull themselves toward the shore and assist each other get out of the barrels. Dwalin struggles with a waterlogged Ori, whose legs don’t seem to want to work, and Bofur and Dori try and pull Bombur out of his barrel; Fili complains about how her barrel smelled ferociously like apples and that she’ll never want to even look at an apple again; Thorin helps Bilbo climb out of the water, finding that she is soaked to the bone and freezing; and Kili’s injured leg gives out and he sits, pressing a rag against his injury.

    “Kili’s wounded, his leg needs binding,” Fili says.

    “Do it quickly,” Thorin replies, “We need to keep moving.”

    “To where?” Balin questions.

    “The mountain,” Bilbo says, “We’re so close.”

    “A lake lies between us and that Mountain,” Balin points out, “We have no way to cross it.”

    “So then we go around,” Bilbo suggests.

    “The Orcs will run us down,” Dwalin says, “Sure as daylight. We’ve no weapons to defend ourselves.”

    “Bind his leg,” Thorin orders, “You have two minutes.”

    Bilbo sits down with a groan and wraps her arms around herself, trying to conserve as much heat as she can as she thinks about her children and wonders where they are and how they’re doing, considering the length and volume of the party, she assumes her children are most likely still sleeping, or perhaps just waking now due to the commotion of the company’s escape. Thorin takes a seat beside her and places a hand on her shoulder. She offers him an exhausted smile, which he returns. They all remain relatively quiet as they wring their clothes out and dump the water from their boots, until a tall mysterious figure appears and aims their bow at Ori. Dwalin growls and arms himself with a branch, which the archer just shoots. Kili then picks up a large rock and gets ready to throw it, only to have the man shoot another arrow and knock the rock from his hand.

    “Do it again, and you’re dead,” he threatens.

    “Excuse me!” Balin raises his hands when the archer aims his next arrow at the Dwarf. “You’re from Laketown, if I’m not mistaken.” The old Dwarrow steps forward slowly, keeping his arms raised and visible. “That barge over there, it wouldn’t be available for hire, by any chance?”

    The man raises an eyebrow, but lowers his weapon. He puts the arrow away, then puts the longbow and quiver of arrows on his boat, before turning and retrieving the barrels from the water. “What makes you think I would help you?” the man asks.

    “Those boots have seen better days,” Balin says, “As has that coat. And, no doubt, you have some hungry mouths to feed. How many bairns?”

    “Boy and two girls,” he answers, rolling another barrel onto the boat.

    “And your wife, I imagine she’s a beauty,” Balin says, glancing nervously back at the company.

    The man pauses and stares off into space for a moment. “Aye, she was.” 

    Balin stammers out an apology, and then Dwalin mutters to himself, “Come on, enough with the niceties.” Though, perhaps he meant it for only his ears, but it carried to everyone else’s ears, as well. “What you’re hurry?” the man asks

    “What’s it to you?” Dwalin responds.

    “I would like to know who you are,” the archer informs, “And what you are doing in these lands.”

    “We are simple merchants from the Blue Mountains, journeying to see our kin in the Iron Hills,” Balin quickly explains.

    “Simple merchants, you say?” the archer queries.

    “We need food, supplies, weapons,” Thorin adds, “Can you help us?”

    The man pulls the final barrel onto his barge and brushes his fingers over the cracks and marks in the wood. “I know where these barrels came from.”

    “What of it?” Thorin questions.  

    “I don’t know what business you have with the Elves, but I don’t think it ended well,” he says, “No one enters Laketown but by leave of the Master. All his wealth comes from trade with the Woodland Realm, he would see you in irons before risking the wrath of King Thranduil.”

    Thorin growls and whispers to Balin, telling him to offer the man more. Bilbo is surprised, she would have expected Thorin to just let him go and they’ll just march into Laketown demanding to see the Master. “I’ll wager there are ways to enter that town unseen,” Balin says.

    “Aye, but for that you would need a smuggler,” the archer replies.

    “For which we would pay double.”

    The man straightens and looks at the company with a curious expression, but agrees and allows the Dwarves to board the barge. Once everyone is settled, the man releases the boat from the dock and pushes the boat toward the lake.

 

    Bilbo sneezes, again, and groans before wiping her nose on the piece of cloth Bofur gave her at the very beginning of their journey. Bard steers his boat through the waters while Balin and most of the others sit on the floor, counting out their coins.

    “Are you alright?” Thorin asks.

    The Hobbit nods. “I’m fine, probably just coming down with a cold.”

    Thorin nods and gently pats her shoulder before wandering back over to check on the coins. Bilbo pushes herself off the wall of the boat and approaches the Lakeman. “Hello Master...” Bilbo pauses realizing she hasn’t learned his name. “I’m sorry, I never learned your name.”

    “Bard,” he replies, “Yours?”

    “Bilbo,” she replies, “Bilbo Baggins.”

    “Master Baggins,” he says, “What can I help you with?”

    “Nothing really,” Bilbo says, “Just someone to talk to. You said you had three children?”

    Bard nods. “Boy and two girls,” he confirms, “Sigrid is the oldest, then Bain, and then Tilda. Sigrid will be seventeen in a few months, Bain just turned fifteen, and Tilda is eleven.”

    “I have two children of my own,” Bilbo says, “Isengrim and Belladonna. They’re twins and they just turned twenty-five a few months ago.”

    “And what would that be for Halflings?”

    “Hobbits, please, if you will,” Bilbo corrects, “And thirty-three is when we come of age, so they are still quite young, around the age of your eldest.”

    “Are they at home with your wife?”

    “They are at home,” Bilbo says, “But I have no wife.”

    “So you understand,” Bard says, “What it’s like being a lone parent.”

    “I do.” Bilbo glances at Thorin briefly before looks back at Bard. “When did your wife die, if I may ask?”

    “She died in childbirth,” Bard confesses, “Tilda was too much, I suppose. And yours?”

    “I don’t know how she is,” Bilbo says, “She left shortly after they were born and never returned. I raised them myself with some help from my parents.”

    “If your children are twenty-five, how old are you?”

    “I’m fifty,” Bilbo informs, “Wait, what day is it?”

    “The twenty-second of September, why?”

    “Today’s my birthday,” Bilbo says with a light smile. She’d completely forgotten about keeping track of the days and thus forgot about her birthday, she’ll have to find things to give to the company.

    “Well, happy birthday, my friend.”

    “Thank you.”

    “So you were twenty-six when they were born?” Bard asks, “And becoming of age is thirty-three?”

    “That is correct, it was quite the scandal, you know,” Bilbo says, “Us being so young. There was the plan for us to get married after the twins were born, and I suppose that scared her, so she ran away.”

    “How did it affect you?”

    “I was devastated. We’d been friends for years and we started courting two years before the twins were even conceived.” 

    “If you were courting, why would the idea of marriage scare her?”

    “Hobbit courting lasts quite a few years, four at the least, and so far the longest I’ve heard of is twelve. How long do Humans court?”

    “My wife and I courted for three years before we got married, but I’ve heard of some courting for only a year and getting married.”

    “That’s so little time! How are you able to know each other well in such a short amount of time?” Bilbo questions.

    “I am unsure, my friend.” Bard answers.

    “It took me nearly three years after we met to scrounge up the courage to ask, then two more before she told me her favorite dessert. Stubborn, that one was.” Bilbo smiles, knowing that she’s telling him her story mixed with a few details from her parents’ story. Her father really took that long to ask, and it really took that long for her mother to answer. But it’s understandable, they wanted to make sure it was worth it, and that their relationship would last.

    “Why would it take so long?”

    “Their favorite dessert is how you start courting.” the Hobbit informs.

    “How so?”

    “You ask them first, that’s how they know you want to start courting. And making it is when you want to propose.” Bilbo explains “When you ask, that’s when they know you want to court them, then it’s up to them whether or not they want to tell you. If they want to court you, but not yet, they will tell you to ask again another time. If they do not wish to court you, they will tell you just that. If it is the last one, you will most likely lose the friendship.”

    “And that it why you were afraid to ask.” Bard says.

    “That’s correct,” Bilbo confirms, “I’d like to know what happened to her, where she is now. If she’s alive, if she has a family.”

    “And if you never find out?”

    “I’d be okay with that,” Bilbo says, “I’d like to know, but if I don’t, that’s okay.”

    “It would be nice to have closure?” Bard asks, “But you don’t need it.”

    “Yes.”

    “Master Baggins,” Thorin calls from the other end of the boat. Bilbo looks at Bard with an exhausted expression but makes her way over, and leans against the side of the barge on the opposite side that Thorin is on, and starts to think about her children and hopes that they are safe. As they sail, the fog on the lake dissipates to reveal ruins of something Bilbo cannot figure out. It all seems to be made of stone, but she can’t tell what it is or used to be.

    “Watch out!” Bofur cries. Bard doesn’t comment and smoothly steers the boat between the formations.

    “What are you trying to do, Drown us?” Thorin questions.

    “I was born and bred on these waters, Master Dwarf,” Bard informs, “If I wanted to drown you, I would not do it here.”

    Dwalin frowns. “I’ve had enough of this lippy Lakeman. I say we throw him over the side and be done with it.” 

    Bilbo sighs and rolls her eyes, “Bard, his name’s Bard,” she says.

    “How do you know?” Bofur asks.

    Bilbo tilts her head. “Uh, I asked him,” she sasses.

    “I don’t care what he calls himself,” Dwalin informs, “I don’t like him.”

    “We do not have to like him,” Balin says, “We simply have to pay him. Come on, lads, turn out your pockets.”

    “How do we know he won’t betray us?” Dwalin mutters.

    “We don’t” Thorin replies.

    “There’s just a wee problem,” Balin announces, “We’re ten coin short.”

    Thorin looks at Gloin, “Gloin, come on. Give us all you have.”

    “Don’t look to me,” the redheaded Dwarf replies, “I have been bled dry by this venture! What have I seen for my investment? Naught but misery and grief and--” Gloin stops himself when he notices the entire company standing. He stands as well and gazes with them at the mountain. It’s distant and foggy, but it’s there. ”Bless my beard,” The dwarf mutters and hands over his money pouch, “Take it, take all of it.”

    Bard leaps from his place at steering the barge. “The money, quick, give it to me,” he orders.

    “We will pay you when we get our provisions, but not before,” Thorin says.

    “If you value your freedom, you’ll do as I say,” Bard says, “There are guards ahead.”

    They hand the money over and after much convincing, Bard has the company climb into the barrels. Fili whines about not wanting to climb into the apple smelling barrel again, so she and her brother switch. They approach the dock and Bilbo is told to watch Bard., as she has the only barrel with a hole facing out.

    “What’s he doing?” Dwalin asks.

    “He’s talking to someone,” Bilbo replies, “He’s pointing right at us!” The Hobbit panics and moves away from the hole for a moment, before peering out again. “Now they’re shaking hands.”

    “What?”

    “The villain,” Dwalin spits, “he’s selling us out.”

    There’s creaking and footsteps approaching them before each barrel is filled to the brim with dead fish. The company coughs and gags at the smell and Bard urges them to keep quiet by kicking the barrels and shushing them. “Quiet! We’re approaching the toll gate.”

    “Halt! Goods inspection! Papers please!” A voice calls, though the fish make hearing quite difficult for the Hobbit, “Oh it’s you Bard.”

    “Morning, Percy,” Bard says.

    “Anything to declare?” Percy asks.

    “Nothing, but that I am cold and tired and ready for home.” Bilbo nods in sympathy, she certainly feels the exact same.

    “You and me both,” Percy replies. There are a few sounds that Bilbo is unable to place before Percy speaks again. “There we are. All in order.”

    “Not so fast.” A new voice, and an annoying one at that. “Consignment of empty barrels from the Woodland Realm. Only they’re not empty, are they Bard? If I recall correctly, you’re licensed as a bargeman, not a fisherman.” Bilbo can decide this at this very moment that she does not like this new person one bit.

    “That’s none of your business,” Bard defends.

    “Wrong, it’s the Master’s business, which makes it my business.”

    “Come on, Alfrid, have a heart. People need to eat!”

    “These fish are illegal.” There is a splash and Bilbo can assume the Alfrid character threw something into the water. “Empty the barrels over the side.” When she processes his words, she begins to panic.

    “You heard him, in the canal.” Another new voice. There are multiple sets of footsteps that board the barge, but none of them close to where Bilbo is.

    “Folk in this town are struggling,” Bard says, “Times are hard, food is scarce.”

    “That’s not my problem.”

    “And when people hear the Master is dumping fish back in the lake, when the rioting starts, will it be your business then?”

    Alfrid is silent for a moment. “Stop,” he finally says and the splashing of fish being put back in the lake stops and the barrels are put back in place. “Ever the people’s champion, eh Bard? Protector of the common folk. You might have their favor now, bargeman, but it won’t last.”

    There are receding footsteps and Percy calls out. “Raise the gate!” Clanking of the gate raising is heard next and Bard’s footsteps returning to his place on the boat.

    “The Master has his eye on you,” Alfrid’s voice returns, “You’d do well to remember: we know where you live.”

    “It’s a small town Alfrid,” Bard replies, “Everyone knows where everyone lives.” Bilbo has to cover her mouth to stop her giggling and the boat lurches forward. They move along relatively slowly before the barge comes to a halt. Bilbo doesn’t get out of the barrel immediately, but waits after a few of the company have escaped. Bard gives the man watching them a silver coin, telling him to keep quiet about seeing them, before leading the company away. They have a bit of a mishap with a few guards, but they get away. That is, until Bard’s son informs them of their house being watched, so Bard comes up with a new plan to get them inside his home. And that new plan is making them climb through the toilet into the house.

    “Da? Why are there Dwarves climbing out of our toilet?” Bard oldest daughter, Sigrid, questions.

    “Will they bring us luck?” the youngest daughter, Tilda, asks excitedly.

    Eventually the entire company is inside and sitting around the fire, trying to warm up and dry off, and Tilda is giving the company dry coats to wear. Bilbo takes the blue coat from the top of the pile, thanking the girl, but doesn’t put it on and decides it would be best to wait for the rest of her clothes to dry before putting it on. Instead, she just tugs the blanket on her shoulders closer and holds her mug of tea closer to her face in an attempt to clear her sinuses.

    She looks up from the floor and sees Thorin standing by the window with a haunted expression. The Hobbit stands and makes her way over to him. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” she comments, noting how different, yet charming, Thorin looks in the rust colored cardigan he was given.

    “He has,” Balin says, approaching them, “The last time we saw such a weapon, a city was on fire. It was the day the dragon came. The day that Smaug destroyed Dale. Girion, Lord of the City, rallied his bowmen to fire upon the beast. But a dragon’s hide is tough, tougher than the strongest armour. Only a Black Arrow fired from a windlance could have pierced the dragon’s hide. And few of those arrows were ever made. The store was running low when Girion made his last stand.”

    “Had the aim of Men been true that day,” Thorin begins, “Much would have been different.”

    “You speak as if you were there,” Bard says, approaching them.

    “All Dwarves know the tale,” Thorin replies.

    Bain appears at his father’s side, “Then you would know that Girion hit the dragon,” he retorts, “He loosened a scale under the left wing. One more shot and he would have killed the beast.”

    Dwalin chuckles bitterly, “That’s a fairy story, lad. Nothing more.”

    Thorin walks up to Bard. “You took our money, where are they weapons?”

    “Wait here.”

    Bard leaves the room and goes down the stairs, then returns with a collection of makeshift weapons, things made from other things, such as a smithy’s hammer and a harpoon. After a moment of confusion, the Company becomes angry.

    “We paid you for weapons,” Gloin says, “Iron-forged swords and axes!”

    “It’s a joke,” Bofur says, tossing the weapon he was holding back onto the pile

    “You will not find better outside the city armoury!” Bard argues, “All iron-forged weapons are held there under lock and key.”

    “Thorin,” Balin says, “Why not take this offer and go? I’ve made do with less, so have you. I say we leave now.”

    “You’re not going anywhere,” Bard argues.

    “What did you say?” Dwalin demands.

    “There are spies watching this house and probably every dock and wharf in the town,” the man explains, “You must wait till nightfall.”

    Bard gathers the weapons and returns them to their hiding spot before leaving the house, and the Company look to their leader for what they should do. Bilbo, who was standing at Thorin’s right, takes his elbow and pulls him away from the rest of the company.

    “Thorin, you said that Durin’s Day falls on October Nineteenth this year, correct?” she asks.

    “Yes,” he confirms with a nods, “Why?”

    “Durin’s Day is only a few days less than a month away,” she informs, “We don’t need to leave right away, we have time. We can stay in Laketown for a few weeks to rest and to prepare, and then we can leave.”

    “What is today?” The Dwarf asks. Bilbo exhales through her nose and mutters the date. “What?” He asks again, unable to hear her answer.

    “September Twenty-second,” She repeats.

    “It’s your birthday.”

    “Yes,” Bilbo replies, “I didn’t want to tell you because you’d be adamant about getting me something.”

    “Well of course, it’s your birthday,” Thorin says, in an ‘obviously’ sort of tone.

    Bilbo sighs and takes his hands. “The only thing I need for my birthday, is you, and this company, safe, healthy, and with a home to return to,” She assures him, “But, if you are absolutely sure about getting me something. I would like a hot meal and a soft bed to sleep in.”

    Thorin nods slowly. “What are we to do until we need to leave?”

    “We need the assistance of the Master,” Bilbo says, “As much as I hate to say it, if we’re to get the supplies we need, we require his help.”

    “Right.” The Dwarf King nods. “We will request to see him and ask for his help. We leave for the Master’s house at sunset.”

 

    As planned, the company reaches the Master of Laketown’s home by sundown, by now they’re mostly dry and wearing their new clothes. Bilbo quite likes the thick blue coat she’s wearing now, as it protects her from the cold better than her red coat did, though the sleeves are a bit long so she has to fold them up so they don’t hang over her hands. She notices most of the company had to do the same to their garments as well. The guards standing before the steps to the porch halt them. “Who are you? What do you want?” the one pointing a spear in Thorin’s face asks.

    “This is Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror!” Dwalin says loudly, gesturing to said Dwarrow “King Under the Mountain.” Dwalin proclamation catches the attention of a few bystanders, who turn to listen.

    Thorin places a hand on Dwalin’s shoulder and steps forward. “We wish to speak with the Master of Laketown.” The guard stares at them for a few moments before turning and entering the house to retrieve the Master.

    Quite a large crowd grows around them, the people of Laketown interested in the company of Dwarves, and the Master of Laketown and who Bilbo can only assume is his councillor exit the house. “What is the meaning of this?” cries the Master, “Who are these Dwarves?”

    “A desperate bunch of mercenaries if ever there was, Sire.” Bilbo cringes, recognizing the voice of Alfrid. She then recalls when they first arrived that Alfrid said that his business is the Master’s business, so it makes sense that he would be his councillor.

    “Hold your tongue,” Dwalin orders, “You do not know of whom you speak. This is Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror!” Bilbo rolls her eyes and bites her tongue to keep from expressing that Dwalin is going overboard on the dramatics, one loud proclamation that Thorin is who he is was enough. Thorin again, placed his hand on Dwalin’s shoulder, most likely giving him a look that says exactly what Bilbo wants to say.

    “We are the Dwarrow of Erebor,” Thorin informs, “We have come to reclaim our homeland.” Thorin pauses, letting the people around them process his words. “I remember this town in the great days of old. Fleets of boats lay at harbor, filled with silks and fine gems. This was no forsaken town on a lake. This was the centre of all trade in the North!” The people of Laketown chatter in agreement. “I would see those days return. I would relight the great forges of the Dwarrow and send wealth and riches flowing once more from the Halls of Erebor!” Thorin turns from his speech to look at the Master of Laketown while the people around them cheer.

    “Death!” cries a voice, one Bilbo recognizes as Bard, and a moment later, the bargeman appears, “That is what you will bring upon us. Dragon fire and ruin. If you waken that beast, it will destroy us all.”

    “You can listen to this naysayer,” Thorin begins, “But I promise you this: If we succeed, all will share in the wealth of the Mountain.” The look in Thorin’s eyes inform that his words hold truth and beside Bilbo, Balin nods. “You will have enough gold to rebuild Esgaroth ten times over!” The chatters of the townspeople turn into cheers.

    “Why should we take you at your word, eh?” Alfrid asks “We know nothing about you. Who here can vouch for your character?”

    There’s a long silence before Bilbo pipes up. “Me,” she says, holding up a hand, “I’ll vouch for him. I have travelled far with these Dwarves through great danger, and if Thorin Oakenshield gives his word, then he will keep it.” Thorin gives Bilbo a soft, grateful look with a glimmer of something else behind it, and nods in her direction as a thanks.

    Bard looks around at the townspeople, shocked at their reactions. “All of you!” he shouts, desperate, “Listen to me! You must listen! Have you forgotten what happened to Dale? Have you forgotten about those who died in the firestorm?! And for what purpose? The blind ambition of a Mountain King, so riven by greed, he could not see beyond his own desire!”

    “Now, now!” The Master interrupts “We must not, any of us, be too quick to lay blame. Let us not forget that it was Girion, Lord of Dale, your ancestor, who failed to kill the beast!”

    Bilbo thinks that’s not fair, he says not to lay blame too quick, but goes and blames Bard for something his ancestor couldn’t do.

    “It’s true, Sire,” Alrid says, “We all know the story. Arrow after arrow he shot, each one missing it’s mark.”

    Bard approaches Thorin. “You have no right, no right to enter that mountain.”

    Thorin raises his chin and locks his gaze with Bard’s. “I have the only right.” Thorin turns his back to the man and starts up the steps. “I speak to the Master of the Men of the Lake. Will you see the prophecy fulfilled? Will you share in the great wealth of our people? What say you?”

    “I say, unto you…” The Master pauses. “Welcome! Welcome! And thrice welcome, King Under the Mountain!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I find it hilarious that I'm either really early or incredibly late when I post these chapters. I say that it goes up around 3pm EST but it never does, it's always earlier than that, or like the last chapter it was extremely late. But anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, it took much longer than I thought it would to rewrite, but I'm lazy, so... yeah. I had to take that last bit out the the next chapter bc it was too short for my liking. I barely made it passed 7000 words. there are literally 7008 words in this chapter bc I was determined to get it to 7000.  
> Also, I feel like I should mention, though I'll go back and change it in the previous chapters, my tumblr is no longer consort-under-the-mountain, it is now blubuddi974, just like it is on here. so go ahead and follow me if you like. but again, I hope you liked this chapter, thank you for taking time out of your day to read it.


	11. Up the Running River

    After the cheers of the people of Laketown died down, the Master invites the company inside to join him for a feast, and even allowed Thorin to take his seat at the very head of the table, then sat Fili and Kili with him. Even Bilbo was sat at the high table with no explanation of where she came in asked for. The feast lasts a good few hours, and after it finally ends, the company is given housing. They are given seven of the smallest, and thus cheapest, rooms in the Inn, all paid for by the Master. Once they reach the Inn, they must agree on roommates. After much discussion, it is decided that Bombur, because of his largeness, will get a room to himself; and thus, Fili and Kili will share a room with their uncle, Nori and Ori would room together, Balin and Dwalin, Oin and Gloin, Bifur and Bofur, and Dori would bunk with Bilbo.

    “I just thought that Bilbo would be more comfortable bunking with a fellow female,” The Dwarrowdam had explained to Nori when she asked him to room with Ori. Nori had agreed, of course, but not before glancing in Bofur’s direction. Now, Bilbo and Dori are in their room, as is everyone else, getting ready for bed. Bilbo is lying on her stomach on the bed watching Dori undo all her braids.

    “So you know about Nori and Bofur?” The Hobbit asks.

    The Dam scoffs “Of course I do,” she says “I’ve known for a long time. As soon as he moved out to move in with Bofur, I knew. I had my suspicions before but when he moved out, I knew.”

    Bilbo hums. “Is there anyone else in the company who has someone, as far as you know? Other than Gloin and Bombur of course.”

    “Not to my knowledge.”

    Bilbo hums again. “Dori, when we first met, did you think that Thorin and I were separated?”

    “Well, considering the hostile behaviors from the both of you, we all did.”

    “I didn’t know we got married, and we never separated.”

    “You’re still married?” Dori asks, whipping around in her chair.

    “Keep your voice down!” Bilbo whispers, “He doesn’t know I know we’re still married.”

    “Who else knows you’re still married?” the Dam queries.

    “Bofur does, and I think Dwalin might. But I’m not sure,” The Hobbit answers, “Bofur was the one who helped me figure out that I was married in the first place.”

    “Really? Was that before the..?”

    Bilbo groans. “Who else knows about that?”

    “Just me and Ori. Nori was particularly upset about it, I was surprised that he even told us, it’s very uncharacteristic of him.”

    “It was after that. I found out at Beorn’s. We were doing the laundry, and he continued my story with Thorin and I getting married, but I, of course, told him that no we didn’t get married. And then he explained to me.” Dori nods and hums, then turns back around to finish undoing her braids. Bilbo watches her pull one last pin and her silver hair cascades down her back. “Your hair is beautiful,” the Hobbit comments 

    Dori smiles, pulling it over one shoulder. “Thank you, it’s taken me a long time to get it where it’s at now. If you don’t mind me asking, why did you keep your hair short?”

    “It’s just easier for me to handle,” Bilbo says, running her fingers through her honey colored locks; it’s gotten much longer since the beginning of the quest, it was nearly past her shoulder blades now. “I used to keep it longer as a child but as I got older I decided to keep it shorter.”

    “It grows very quickly, as far as I can tell,” Dori says, “Dwarrow hair grows very slowly, and it’s very important to us. It’s why when someone is named a traitor their hair and beard are sheared so that all other Dwarrow will know of their betrayal.” Bilbo nods and watches her cross the room to look in the connected bathroom. “Do you plan on bathing tonight?” Dori asks from the doorway.

    “I would like to; you wouldn’t mind if I shared your bath with you?”

    “Of course not, the tub is certainly big enough,” The ‘Dam answers, “I’m afraid we won’t have hot water, though. There’s only one tap.”

    “Well, after bathing is freezing cold rivers, I suppose I’ve gotten used to it.”

    Dori nods in understanding. “Well, once we reclaim Erebor, we’ll have access to as much hot water as we want.”

    “Really?”

    Dori nods. “There are natural hot springs in the mountain, that where the communal baths are, and we have heating station’s all through the mountain for the homes for their sinks and baths.” Bilbo hums, thinking of how nice it would be to bathe in hot water for once. “I’ll fill the tub, yeah?” Dori says. Bilbo nods and picks up her comb to rake through the knots and snags in her hair.

    The tub fills rather quickly and soon enough, the two of them are sitting on opposite sides of the large tub and sharing stories while they wash themselves. “I remember the hell that was trying to bathe the twins when they were fauntlings,” Bilbo says, “Every time I turned away, they were trying to get out.”

    Dori nods knowingly. “Ori was the same,” she says, “he hated bathing.”

    “But they wouldn’t bathe separately, they had to bathe together,” Bilbo informs, “They stopped bathing together when they were ten, I think.”

    “Do Hobbits not have communal baths?” Dori asks.

    “We do, bathing together is very common and encouraged actually. It’s just that our bath in Bag End was too small for the both of them. I’m unsure about Dwarves, but usually only the upper classes have home baths. Our lower classes bathe in the public baths more often because most of them do not have the required plumbing. Of course, everyone has at least a sink and a toilet in their homes, but the plumbing for baths are more expensive.”

    Dori nods. “In the Blue Mountains, there are only communal baths. Not even the wealthiest Dwarf Lords in Ered Luin could afford a home bath. After the loss of Erebor, a lot of our people all over Middle Earth lost their wealth. If I recall correctly, His Majesty’s family bathed in the same bathhouse as us. It was odd, seeing the royal family bathing in a public bathhouse with the commoners.”

    “I apologize in advance if this is rude, but how old were you when Erebor fell?” Bilbo asks.

    “It’s quite alright,” Dori says, “I was thirty-four. Still just a wee thing. His Majesty was only twenty-four at the time, his brother was nineteen, and the Lady Dis was only ten.”

    “Were Nori and Ori not born yet?” Bilbo asks.

    “Oh no, not yet. The only members of our company that were born in Erebor before it fell were His Majesty, Balin, Dwalin, Myself, and Oin.” 

    “Do you remember much of when Erebor fell?”

    Dori nods. “I remember it vividly. I remember we were in our home in the sitting room, I was on the floor playing with a set of wooden soldiers, and my mother was sitting in the chair in front of the fireplace, when one of the guards burst through the doors and told us what was happening. My mother scooped me into her arms and she ran out of our home. I still have one of those soldiers, it’s on a shelf in my bedroom; I had dropped one of the two I had in my hands when she picked me up, but I kept the other one gripped in my hand. We escaped safely, and we joined the group heading West for the Blue Mountains.”

    Bilbo hums and nods. “You mention your mother, but not your father, did something happen to him?”

    “My father died in Erebor shortly after I turned thirty. He was a miner and died in a cave in. He wasn’t a good dwarrow, from what my mother told me. He was angry and abusive and my mother couldn’t remember how she’d fallen in love with him. And so my mother met another dwarrow when we were travelling west toward the Blue Mountains. He was a lovely person and eventually they’d gotten married and soon enough, Nori was born, followed shortly by Ori.”

    Bilbo’s brow pinches. “I thought Dwarves only loved once,” she says.

    “Normally they do,” Dori confirms, “But in some cases, divorce is necessary. For instance when half the couple is abusive or adultery occurs, and the victim is allowed to remarry if that is their wish. But it is generally unheard of to remarry.”

    Bilbo nods. “Hobbits usually don’t remarry. But there have been some cases. And I’ve heard that remarriage is almost common among Humans and that some Humans remarry more than once.”

    Dori’s eyes grow widen in shock. “That’s absurd! Why would they do such a thing?”

    “Perhaps it’s because they spend so little time courting,” Bilbo says with a shrug of her shoulders, “They don’t know each other that well and they get married and learn after they’ve married that they don’t even like the person. They get married on a whim and don’t even realize they hardly know the person they’re marrying. I just don’t understand.”

    “Humans,” Dori says with a roll of her eyes, wringing the water out of her hair, causing Bilbo to giggle.

    “I feel like a tween at a slumber party,” the Hobbit says, “Just the gossipping and all.”

    “A slumber party?” Dori repeats.

    “You’ve never heard of a slumber party?” At Dori’s shrug, Bilbo explains. “It’s when you have a few of your friends sleep over at your house for a night or two, or you go stay at a friend’s house, and you gossip and stay up all night. I didn’t have many as a child, but I did go to a few.”

    “Oh, you mean an  **Azluf-uru** ,” Dori says, “I didn’t have that many either, but this certainly feels like one.”

    Eventually they feel clean enough and exit their bath and pull the plug to drain the tub. They then dry themselves off and redress and Dori moves to the vanity to comb out her hair and braid it. Bilbo grabs her own comb and combs out her towel dried hair. Bilbo watches Dori braid her hair with a surprising speed and then excuse herself so that she may check on her brothers.

    Once the door shuts, Bilbo flops backwards onto the bed and stairs at the ceiling. The wood is warped, which is expected for a building that’s over top of a lake, but it seems to be built quite well since she can’t see into the floor above. ‘Seems’ because she doesn’t know the first thing about constructing a building with more than one level, or constructing a building at all really. Bilbo shakes her heads and instead thinks of her children. Worries, more accurately. She’s no idea where they are or who they’re with, or what condition they’re in, if they’re hurt or whatnot. A sudden knock startles Bilbo out of her thoughts. She sits up and wipes at her nose with the back of her hand before calling out “Come in!” and then grimacing at her sick sounding voice.

    The door opens and Bofur enters the room. “How’re you feeling?” he asks, sitting at the foot of the bed.

    Bilbo shrugs, moving down to side beside him. “Okay, I suppose,” she answers, “I could be better, though.” Bofur nods understandably. “My nose is stuffy as all hell, I’m cold, I’m achy, and I’m tired. How are none of the rest of you sick?”

    “Dwarrow are hardy creatures, Bilbo. We hardly ever get sick. You should have Oin take a look at you, though.” Bilbo groans, making the Dwarf laugh. “I know, I know. The old coot’s insufferable, but he’s good at his craft.”

    “I’ll do it tomorrow, I just want to sleep tonight.” Bilbo presses the heels of her palms into her eyes and sighs. 

    “Something the matter?”

    “I’m worried about Bella and Isengrim.”

    “I’m sure they’re fine.

    Bilbo sniffles a bit. “How can you be so sure?”

    “Well, they’ve gone on plenty of journeys on their own before, haven’t they?”

    “Yes, but this is different, I’ve no idea where they are now. They could still be in Mirkwood for all I know.”

    “You just have to think more positively” Bofur says “And besides, if they’re in Mirkwood, they’re safe, right? The Elf King likes them, doesn’t he? He’s most likely keeping them protected even if they’re not in Mirkwood.”

    “I suppose you’re right. I’m just so overwhelmed right now. I’m still suffering from all the stress from Mirkwood and that stupid river.” Bilbo inhales sharply “And I’m just so done with everything right now, I just want to go home.” A sob escapes the Hobbit’s throat and Bofur reaches to pull her into his chest.

    “There, there,” he cooes, gently rubbing her back, “Just let it out, it’s better than keeping it in.” They sit there for a few moments waiting for Bilbo to calm down.

    When she finally does, she sits up straight and rubs at her nose. “Ew, where’s my handkerchief?” she says looking at the snot on the back of her hand. Bofur stands and retrieves said handkerchief from the vanity. He hands it over and Bilbo blows her nose. “Thank you, Bofur. I suppose everything just sort of hit me all at once.”

    “Not a problem, lass,” he says, wiping away her tears with his thumb, “Everyone has their moments, even I do.”

    “You? No.” Bilbo doesn’t think she’s ever seen Bofur without a smile on his face. That’s who Bofur is, a cheerful Dwarf who’s always cracking jokes and making everyone smile. But his words dawn on Bilbo. Perhaps he’s the way he is because he doesn’t want anyone to feel the way he does.

    “Aye, it’s true. I’ve had a few spells, m’self.” Even now, he’s smiling, like his feelings don’t matter.

    Bilbo nods and touches his hand. “Just be sure that if you do, I’ll be there for you, yeah?”

    Bofur nods and taps Bilbo’s chin with his fist “You get some sleep, y’hear?”

    “I hear you,” Bilbo says, chuckling, “Now, get out.”

    The Dwarf snorts as he slides off the bed. “I’m going.” Bofur leaves the room and Bilbo glances across the room at the vanity mirror. She tilts her head and takes in her reflection. She looks so different. Her face and body have lost their pudginess; her cheeks are sunken in, making her cheekbones much more prominent than before, and her clothes that once fit her snugly, not hang limply on her body. She glances at the closed door and then back at the mirror, then lifts her arms and flexes. The amount of muscle on her startles Bilbo. Sure, she had a bit of muscle from the regular gardening, but this was more muscle than she’s ever seen on any Hobbit, let alone herself. She rubs her arms decides it would be best if she just goes to sleep. So she yanks down the blankets and climbs into the over-large bed and falls asleep.

    When Bilbo wakes the next morning, her cold is much worse than when she went to sleep the night before. Dori gets Oin, who checks over the Hobbit. “Alright lass, I need you to take off your top.”

    “I’m sorry?” Bilbo asks incredulously.

    “I mean I need to see how thin you’ve gotten. Dori came to me last night, worried about you. I need to assess your condition.” Bilbo nods and awkwardly removes her clothing from the waist up, then stands on the floor as directed with her arms out. Oin pokes and prods at her thin frame. The half-deaf healer hums and straightens. “You can dress yourself now.” Bilbo nods and does so before sitting on the bed again.

    “How is it?”

    “You’re too thin, much too thin. How often were you eating in Mirkwood?”

    “Not very often,” Bilbo answers with a shrug, “I didn’t really think about it. Bella and Isengrim would give me a few things at the end of each day or I’d take a thing or two from the food stores.”

    “So basically you weren’t eating a full meal at all those weeks we were in Mirkwood?” Bilbo nods, making Oin sigh and grumble to himself. “Seven full meals, every day, for as long as we’re in Laketown, we can’t have you collapsing on us. And you’re not to leave this bed for the rest of today and tomorrow. That should give you enough time to get over most of this cold.” Bilbo nods again, electing to stay silent. “I’ll have someone send up your breakfast.” Another nod and Oin is gathering his things and leaving the room.

    The day goes on quite well, Ori brings her a book that he thought she’d enjoy, different members of the company bring up her different meals and stay to talk to her for a bit, and Oin comes back to check on her every few hours. But she spends most of her time reading her book, it’s interesting. It’s a story about four siblings being sent away to an Elven city to protect them from a war raging on in their homeland, as are many other children, but the home they are placed in has a magic wardrobe that takes them to another world, one that is immensely different from their own where it is eternally winter.

    Thorin brings her supper that evening, it’s a simple stew with a thick slice of bread. “Hello,” He says, as he enters the room.

    “Hi,” Bilbo replies, shutting her book and placing it on the night table.

    “How’re you feeling?” the Dwarrow asks, handing her the bowl.

    She takes it and places it in her lap, chuckling. “Not very well,” She says, “My joints are aching and I can’t stop sneezing, I’m hot and sweaty, but I’m also freezing. I just can’t wait for it to be over.” The Dwarrow hums and nods. “You don’t have to sit with me if you don’t want to,” Bilbo says, “I can handle being by myself, I’ve spent most of the day by myself anyway.”

    “No, it’s fine. I can stay,” Thorin says, “I actually want to get away from the rest of the company for a moment. It’s loud downstairs. It’s quiet up here.”

    Bilbo nods. “It is. I like the quiet.”

    “Really?” Thorin laughs, “If I recall correctly, you hate the quiet, so you’d talk or hum or sing just to fill the silence.”

    Bilbo glares at him. “That’s only when I don’t want it to be quiet, I’ll have you know. I like the quiet when it’s appropriate. On top of that, I had twins, silence was rare and was to be appreciated. Of course when they were younger, quiet was very very suspicious.”

    Thorin chuckles. “You haven’t told me much about them when they were pebbles.”

    Bilbo snorts. “I’m sorry, I just can’t get over that word, it’s adorable.” The Hobbit giggles for a moment before clearing her throat. “I’m not sure what to say about them. There’s not much to tell. They were like any fauntlings, loud, rambunctious, and sneaky, but also incredibly sweet and kind. I do remember they were the only fauntlings to successfully sneak one of Mrs. Proudfoot’s blueberry pies from her kitchen window sill. She still doesn’t know who took it to this day.”

    Thorin laughs softly before his smile falls. “I wish I could have been there.”

    Bilbo rests her hand over his. “There’s no point in dwelling on the faults of the past, there’s nothing we can do about them now.” She offers him a gentle smile. “They would have adored you, though, I’m sure of it.” They share shy smiles before Oin bursts into the room.

    “Alright, you are keeping her from eating, get out”

    “I am not” Thorin says, defensive

    “Then why is her bowl still full?” The two of them glance at each other before looking at the untouched stew in the bowl on Bilbo’s lap.

    Thorin looks at Oin again. “I came up here not five minutes ago.”

    Oin gives the King a pointed look and Thorin grumbles as he leaves the room.

    “You didn’t have to do that,” Bilbo informs, spooning stew into her mouth. “He wasn’t bothering me.”

    “You need to eat, speaking prevents that” Bilbo rolls her eyes and returns to her meal. Oin goes through his questions and Bilbo answers them as best as she can. When he leaves, he takes Bilbo’s empty bowl with him and tells her to sleep. She does as she’s told and curls up on her side and sleeps.

    The next day goes quite differently than the one before, Bilbo gets out of bed despite Oin’s orders to help them deal with Kili. The wound in his thigh has grown infected and it’s causing him great pain. Oin had sent Bofur out to the apothecary with a list of herbs to get, but that was hours ago and it’s growing dark. Bilbo is standing by Kili’s head reapplying the cool towel to his forehead to try and bring down his fever as Fili holds down his leg so that Oin can try and clean it, when suddenly there’s a smash of glass and a scream and then there are Orcs. Bilbo doesn’t remember much of what happens just that there are Orcs and they are attacking them. When her children arrive along with the Prince of Mirkwood and the Captain of the Guard, Bilbo’s knees nearly give out. Now that she knows they’re safe, she can relax a bit. Not while being attacked, of course, but afterwards. Moments after all the Orcs are dead, all but one that is, Tauriel enters the room with a fist full of Kingsfoil. She orders them to hold the young Dwarrow down, and they do as they’re told. Fili holds down her brother’s upper half while Bilbo, Oin, and Bofur hold down his legs.

    Tauriel grabs the bowl of water and tears up the plant into it. The Elf pushes on Kili’s injured leg to observe the wound, then begins to chant, rubbing the plant in her hands. She presses the wet clump against Kili’s wound, which causes him to cry out, but she continues speaking and pressing it against him. The longer she speaks, the less Kili struggles against them, and soon enough, he stops struggling and just stares at the Elf. Bilbo also watches Tauriel, mesmerized by the scene, almost forgetting that she’s supposed the be holding Kili’s leg down.

    Before Tauriel is finished speaking, Kili’s eyes roll back and he falls unconscious, and once she is finished, she grabs clean strips of cloth and begins to wrap Kili’s legs. “I’ve heard tell of the wonders of Elvish medicine,” Oin comments quietly to Fili and Bilbo as they clean up the room, “But that was a privilege to witness.” He leads them towards the door, trying to give them some privacy, but Bilbo stops.

    The Hobbit looks back over to the two and watches Kili’s eyes flutter open. “Tauriel” he says.

    “Lie still,” she orders, turning back to his leg.

    “You cannot be her,” he says, “She is far away.” He looks away, his eyes distant. “She is far, far away from me. She walks in starlight, in another world.” His look turns sad, as does his tone. “It was just a dream.” He glances away from her face to slot his fingers in between hers. “Do you think she could have loved me?”

    Bilbo sucks in a deep breath and wipes at her eyes before leaving the room and following Oin and Fili to the room where the company had gathered to discuss their next moves.  “We need to leave, soon,” Thorin orders, “After an attack like that, we don’t have much time before they come back with a larger number.”

    “Maybe Legolas caught up with Bolg, and killed him,” Bella says, “Then they would not be able to send word back to Dol Guldur about you still being here.”

    “I am sorry to say, but I did not,” Legolas says, joining the room, “But on his own, it will take him at the least a week before he will be able to even reach Dol Guldur to replenish his numbers, and maybe four days to return to Laketown. You have a small amount of time to heal and leave.”

    “Then we must leave by the second of October,” Bilbo says, “It’s the Twenty-Fourth now, in a week it will be the first of October, the second is that Sterday. It should give us enough time to rest up and prepare what we’ll need.”

    The company nods, agreeing on the day they would leave, when Tauriel joins room. “I’m afraid Kili will not be able to leave with you,” she says.

    “We will not be able to leave either,” Isengrim says, “We are to stay with Legolas, as we are still considered under King Thranduil’s care, even though we left the Kingdom.”

    “You would keep them away from their family?” Thorin questions, his tone dark.

    “No, I would keep them away from a stupidly dangerous situation,” Legolas says.

    “And I agree with him,” Bilbo says, earning her incredulous looks from the entire company, “What? He’s right. Legolas is protecting them from this dangerous mission and I wouldn’t have it any other way. I’d rather have them protected and away from that mountain than inside of it where a living dragon might still be.”

    “We don’t know if it’s alive,” Thorin says.

    “But we also don’t know if it isn’t!” Bilbo argues, “You two are staying here with Kili and that’s final.” The Hobbit’s children begin to whine. “I said that’s final,” she repeats and the twins stop whining and stay quiet.

    “If Kili’s staying, so am I,” Fili says, “I belong with my brother.”

    “I’ll be staying as well,” Oin says, “My duties lie with the wounded.”

    “No,” Isengrim says, “You need to stay with the company. Tauriel and I have the healing part covered. They’ll need you.”

    Oin looks as if he wants to protest, but agrees, as one healer for twelve people is better than none, and three healers for six people is excessive.

    By the fifth day they’ve spent in Laketown, Bilbo’s cold has passed and she’s returned to her usual self. She goes out with Tauriel in the afternoon to look for birthday gifts for the company. “I’m sure they told you about how Hobbits celebrate birthdays?” Bilbo asks the guard.

    Tauriel doesn’t respond and when Bilbo looks up at her, she’s still staring at Bilbo with the same confused look. Bilbo clears her throat. “Sorry?” The elf says.

    “Birthdays, and how Hobbit’s celebrate them,” she repeats, “Did the twins tell you about them?”

    Tauriel nods. “Oh, yes. They told me. It’s confusing to say the least,” she admits, “You give gifts on your birthday instead of receive them?”

    Bilbo nods. “It’s to thank your friends and family for being in your life. It’s also to get rid of any old Mathoms you don’t want anymore.” Bilbo giggles to herself but Tauriel remains confused. “Am.. Sorry, I don’t mean to be rude, but am I the first Hobbit you’ve actually met?”

    The Elf nods. “I’ve heard of the  _ Periannath, _ but I’ve never seen any before. You’re a lot… larger than I imagined. I mean, you’re still very small but, not as small as I’d thought.”

    Bilbo snorts. “I understand, our history books tell us Hobbits used to be a lot smaller than we are now. That might be why. And, Hobbit’s if you will,  _ Periannath _ is close enough to Halflings and we find that a tad offensive; we’re not half of anything, thank you very much” Tauriel nods, agreeing to call her a Hobbit, and they continue their journey through the markets of Laketown. Bilbo picks out small gifts for the entire company, things that she thought they’d like, or things she knew they needed.

    “What is a Mathom?” Tauriel asks suddenly, “You said it before, but I’m not sure what that is.”

    “It’s anything that doesn’t have a use, but you don’t want to throw it away.”

    “It’s not anything specific?”

    Bilbo shakes her head “No, just any item that doesn’t have a practical use. A use for Hobbits, that is. It could very well be useful for someone else, but to us, it’s not.”

    After a while, Tauriel notices they’ve been walking in a loop around the market. “I’m sorry, but did you get everything you needed? We’ve been walking in a circle.”

    Bilbo seems to notice after Tauriel points it out. “Oh, no actually, I only need one more, but I can’t seem to find anything I like.”

    “And who is this last one for?” Tauriel asks. Bilbo blushes and doesn’t answer. “Ah, of course. Is there a certain custom for gifts to give to spouses?”

    “Usually you make something but, I can’t really do that at the moment.”

    “Is there anything else?”

    “You could also give them something of yours, something you’d usually never give away. Little trinkets that have sentimental value. But I don’t know what I’d… oh. I know exactly what to give him” Bilbo then turns on her heel and leads Tauriel back to the Inn. She gives out the birthday gifts, repeating the same spiel about she wouldn’t let them not accept it because it would be rude and she would be offended if they didn’t. And she finally reaches Thorin, Fili, and Kili’s room, where Thorin and Dwalin are speaking.

    She knocks on the open door “Hello. I’m giving out my birthday presents, even if it’s been a few days. And I’ve said this so many times, and I don’t want to say it again, but… If you don’t accept my gift, it would be considered rude and I would be offended.”

    Dwalin looks confused, but Thorin just laughs. She hands the bald Dwarrow his gift. “I wasn’t sure what you’d like, but I remember you complaining about how your knuckle-dusters were getting dingy, so I bought you polish for them.” Dwalin accepts the gift with a nod and stares at it in his hands.

    Bilbo glances at Thorin and then back at Dwalin, who looks back up and sees her do it again, and then the realization dawns on him. “Oh, right. I’ll leave.”

    Bilbo whispers a ‘Thank you’ and watches him leave before turning back to Thorin. “I wasn’t sure what to give you, at first. But after looping the Markets a few times and talking with Tauriel, I figured it out.” She reaches into her coat and pulls out a locket. “I had two of them made, just in case, you decided to… y’know, return.” She opens it to reveal two sketches of the twins when they were babies. “They were around 10 months old when I had these done, so they were at that stage where they weren’t that fussy and would mostly hold still, but they needed to be distracted with toys and things.”

    She hands the locket over to let Thorin look at the pictures. The locket, which looked large in her hands, looks tiny in Thorin’s. He brushes his thumb over the faces under the glass. “They don’t know about these. I never told them about it. I don’t know why, now that I think about it, I just didn’t tell them.” Thorin hadn’t made a noise the entire time she was speaking, causing Bilbo to become nervous for his reaction. “D-Do… Do you like it?” she asks hesitantly.

    Thorin startles her by enveloping her in an embrace. “I will cherish it,” he says, pulling away. He sits on the bed and Bilbo follows “How big were they? I can’t really tell with...”

    “Their heads were-” Bilbo makes a circle with her hands- “about this size. They were significantly larger than Hobbit babes, but they were still so small. I wish you could’ve seen them.”

    “So do I” The Dwarf admits,curling his arm around Bilbo’s waist and pulling her into his side. She presses against his side and they look at the locket together, smiling.

 

    The rest of their time in Laketown went by quickly. They had one last feast with the Master and the Morning after, they were being put onto a boat. They presented Thorin and Bilbo with two matching rust colored cloaks. Bilbo wasn’t surprised that they were only offered to them, they weren’t exactly subtle when they were around each other. They all piled into the boat, but not before an emotional parting with the ones they were leaving behind.

    It took them two days to reach the Running River from where it connected to the Long Lake and they continued upwards, at the end of the third day, miles up the river, they decided to disembark on the Western Bank to continue on foot. They set up camp by the river that night, that cold, dark, and oh so quiet night. Their spirits seem to fall that night. They don’t chatter like they normally do, seemingly afraid to interrupt the silence around them. You’d think with the quiet they’d sleep better, but not as such. It was, in fact, harder to sleep. The silence was eerie and unnerving, it almost scared them, how quiet it was.

    They continue on the next day, still quiet. The quest was almost at it’s end, which made it weary, and tired, for they all knew they could be coming to, not only the quest’s end, but their own end as well. They travelled for another five days before reaching Dale. They moved North-West, moving further from the river, and further from the greenness of the land. The further they moved, the less green it became. First, the vegetation turned brown, then the grass disappeared, then the bushes and trees, and soon nothing but the blackened stumps of what used to be were what they saw.

    Bilbo pauses and looks around at the barren land, nothing but rock and dead soil. “It’s so quiet,” she comments; there was no sound, other than the footsteps of the company. No birds, no wind, nothing. Balin approaches and stands beside her. “It wasn’t always like this,” he says, “Once, these slopes were lined with woodlands. The trees were filled with birdsong.” A bird flies above them and lands on a nearby boulder, a thrush, Bilbo thinks. She tilts her head and furrows her brow, staring at the silent bird, who just stared back. How did it survive in this place? And on that note, how were  _ they _ going to survive here?

    “Relax, Miss Baggins. We have food, we have tools, and we’re making good time” Thorin says bringing up the rear of the company. He continues forward, and suddenly starts running, stopping at the edge of the cliff.

    The rest of the company follows and looks down on the ruins of Dale. “What is this place?” Bilbo asks.

    “This was once the city of Dale,” Balin informs, “Now, it is a ruin. The desolation of Smaug.”

    “The sun will soon reach midday,” Thorin says “We still have time to keep moving.”

    “Is this the Overlook?” Bilbo asks “Gandalf said to meet him here, on no account were we to--”

    Thorin interrupts “Do you see him? We have no time to wait upon the Wizard”

    Bilbo raises an eyebrow, hands on her hips “Excuse me? I happen to recall you telling me Durin’s day was the nineteenth of this month; and if I’m counting right, today is only the tenth. Time is just about the only thing we do have.”

    “The nineteenth?” Balin repeats, “Durin’s Day is the twenty-second.”

    “Really?” Bilbo asks, “I was informed otherwise. Well, it seems that we have more time than I’d originally thought.”

    “We keep moving.”

    They follow him and reach the skirts of the Mountain before the sun sets. They make their first camp on the western side of the southern spur, which ended in a height called Ravenhill.

    Before searching for the hidden door on the western spur, Thorin orders a scouting expedition of the South near the Front Gate. He chooses to send Balin, Dwalin, and Nori, and with them Bilbo, to spy the lands of the southern spur. They go, marching under the grey cliffs of Ravenhill to the River, where it met the mountain after looping through the fields of Dale. The River flows swift and noisy, it’s bank bare and rocky. 

    They decide not to follow it further toward the Gate, but rather further East, beyond the end of the Southern spur. They lie hidden behind a rock so they are able to look out and see the dark, cavernous openings from where the water for the River Running came. Unfortunately, the waters were not the only thing to come from those openings. Smoke, dark smoke rose from them. No one moved, they sat there for a moment, in silence.

    “That’s it then,” Bilbo says, her voice just barely above a whisper, “The dragon lives.”

    “That doesn’t prove it,” Balin argues “He might have gone away, I expect smoke to come out of the gates, the halls must be filled with his foul stench.”

    “Balin,” Fili says, “There’s no denying it”

    “I know.”

    They wearily make their way back to camp and relay the information to the rest of the company. As dinner was being passed out, Bilbo approaches Thorin. “Yes?” he asks.

    “I was wondering if I could take a look at the map,” She responds, “The one Gandalf gave you.” Thorin pulled the map from inside of his coat and handed it to her. “Thank you.” she sits down beside him and hunches over the map. “So, our camp is right around here, yes?” Bilbo points to an area on the map, then looks up at Thorin for confirmation.

    He nods “Yes, around there. Why?”

    “I was thinking that we should probably move camp to closer where the entrance is. Because we’ll have to start looking soon, and it’d be best if the camp was closer to the entrance rather than here so we wouldn’t have to go back and forth.” She looks back down at the map. “If we stay here, we’ll be exhausted every time we go looking and we’ll keep putting ourselves out in the open. We want to stay hidden right?”

    Thorin nods again. “When do you think we should start moving?”

    Bilbo hums, “Day after next, at the earliest,” she decides, looking back up at him, “We need to scout the area before settling there, obviously. So I suppose we could send a scout tomorrow and depending on how that goes, we could move the next day.”

    “We could do that, who do you think should go?”

    “I’ll go, and I’ll probably take Nori with me. No offense to Dwalin, but he is physically unable to walk quietly” Thorin laughs, but agrees. “And Balin, is three enough?”

    “Three’s fine.”

    “Right then, Balin, Nori, and I will head out tomorrow morning after breakfast”

    And so they did, they scouted the area and picked a spot for their camp, before returning to the company. And so the next day, they moved out and set up camp where Bilbo had chosen. That night Bilbo sits next to Thorin “We’ve nine days to find the entrance,” she says, before spooning some stew into her mouth.

    “We have time.”

    “Not much.”

    “We’ll find it.”

    “I don’t doubt that,” Bilbo says, “I’m just… afraid of what happens after we find it.”

    “It’s perfectly normal to be afraid, any sane person would be”

    Bilbo offers him a soft smile and goes back to eating her meal.

    Ironically, they find the staircase to the entrance on accident. Bilbo went with Bofur and Dori to search for branches suitable for kindling, four days after moving to the new location. On their way back from searching, they had found , Bilbo stopped and looked at the mountain, or, rather, the carvings on the mountain.

    “Dori, come look at this.”

    “What is it, Bilbo?”

    “Doesn’t that there look quite like stairs?” She asks, pointing to the design in the side of the mountain. Dori follows her gaze and follows the design up the mountain.

    “It is right above us, where the entrance should be,” the ‘Dam says “Do you want to check it out?”

    Bilbo nods “Bofur, will you stay down here while Dori and I climb up?”

    Bofur nods and takes the few branches from the Dwarrowdam. Bilbo and Dori climb up the stairs and it takes them quite a bit of time before they reach the ledge. They stare at the flat face of the stone. The wall wasn’t completely flat, but it was much flatter than the rock around it.

    “This has to be it,” Bilbo mutters, placing a hand on the stone, “It has to.”

    “We should go inform the others,” Dori says, gently leading Bilbo back to the stairs. They take a shorter time going down than going up and meet Bofur at the bottom.

    “Well?” Bofur asks.

    “We found it.”

    They hurry back to the camp, but try not to cause too much suspicion. Bilbo pulls Thorin aside, out of earshot from the rest of the company.

    “What is it?” The Dwarf asks “Is something wrong?”

    “Hmm? Oh, no!” Bilbo waves her hand dismissively. “I think we found it.”

    It took Thorin a moment before he knew what she was talking about. “We have to tell them.”

    “I don’t want to,” she says, “Not just yet. I want you to come with me to see it first before we tell the rest of them. Bofur, Dori, and I discussed it.”

    Thorin nods, “I’ll go with you tomorrow, as soon as we can.”

    “Right”

    The next morning, Thorin tells the company that he and Bilbo were to search for anything they could eat, whether it be squirrel, rabbit, or even vegetables. When he told them, Bilbo started thinking about mushrooms and wondered if there were any nearby safe to eat. Of course with having a group a dirty-minded Dwarves,  _ things _ were assumed, causing Bilbo to blush furiously.

    The company poked fun until the two of them were out of earshot, and Bilbo’s face continued to be red even when they reach the staircase. They climb to the top and Thorin slowly approaches the stone. 

    “This is it, has to be.” He turns around and embraces Bilbo. “Thank you. And not just for finding the door, but for staying with us, and believing in us. We wouldn’t have gotten as far as we have without you.”

    Bilbo blushes. “Don’t thank me just yet, our quest still hasn’t been completed, Thorin.” 

    Thorin sighs, but nods. “You’re right.”

    “Well, now that we’ve found the door, I think we should do what we told them and try and find something for Dinner. I’ve had enough cram for a lifetime, and I never want to eat it again.”

    Thorin laughs and climbs down first, assisting Bilbo after he gets down. They wander around before Bilbo notices a small woodland area in the distance. Thorin manages to get three rabbits and Bilbo finds a patch of mushrooms.

    “Mushrooms?” Thorin asks on their way back to camp, his eyebrow raised.

    “Yes, mushrooms,” Bilbo says, “These ones are one of my favorites. I love them best roasted in garlic and topped with cheese.” The Hobbit sighs happily and twirls as she walks, causing Thorin to laugh.

    “I almost forgot how passionate you get about food,” he says with a chuckle.

    Bilbo stares at him with a bewildered look. “How could you possibly do that?”

    “I said almost.”

    “Ah, of course.”

    “It was one of my favorite things about you,” he says, “You were always so excited about cooking, baking especially. Desserts were your favorite. Carrot Cake was your favorite if I’m not mistaken.”

    Bilbo nods, “That’s right, I can’t believe you still remember.”

    “I don’t think I’ll forget.”

    Bilbo smiles, her cheeks going pink, “There’s something I remember about you as well,” she says, a mischievous smile crawling onto her face.

    “And what would that be?”

    “That’s for me to know, and you to find out.”

    Thorin stops walking. “That sounds ominous. What does it mean?”

    “Just watch your back, Oakenshield,” Bilbo calls back to him, continuing forward. Thorin tries to think of what she’s talking about, but shakes his head and runs to catch up with her.

    Later back at the camp, after dinner was finished and being handed out, Thorin stops to talk to Dwalin. The loud yelp that came from the Dwarf King’s mouth, scared the entire company, causing a few of them to almost drop their food.

    Bilbo, who is standing behind said King, starts laughing. She tosses her head back and laughs. A blush blooms onto Thorin’s face, and the rest of the company starts laughing. Bilbo bends over, clutching her stomach. “I told you I remembered something about you,” she manages between laughs.

    Thorin faces morphs into false anger, and Bilbo laughs again before taking off in the opposite direction, suddenly forgetting her surroundings and feeling like a tween again, the same feeling she felt when she learned just how ticklish the Dwarf was. Thorin chases after her, pealing with laughter. He catches her rather quickly and immediately digs his fingers into her sides. Bilbo shrieks and attempts an escape, but is unsuccessful. Thorin falls into a sitting position, then uses one arm to keep Bilbo pressed to his chest, and the other to tickle her sides.

    “Thorin! Thorin, no!” she cries, “I can’t breathe! Thorin, please!”

    Eventually, he stops and Bilbo collapses into him, her chest heaving with large breaths and small laughs. She turns her head to look at Thorin and after seeing his smug smile, she pushes his face away and looks in the opposite direction. Her smile falls and she blushes furiously when she sees the rest of the company grinning at them. 

    She stands up and brushes off her clothing, then goes to help Thorin to his feet. The rest of the night went extremely awkwardly for the Dwarf King and the Hobbit, as none of the rest of the company wanted to say much or look anywhere else. It ended once it was time for sleep. The night watches were chosen and the rest of the company went to sleep, though Thorin and Bilbo couldn’t help but steal glances at each other and giggle. 

    In the morning, Thorin announces that the door was found and that in four days time, they would be opening it. The company’s spirits seem to grow quickly, it’s seems to be all they want to talk about. And so, in four days time, they were going to the entrance.

    Bilbo was given the honor of leading the way to the entrance, as she’d been the one to find it. The company stops at the top, stunned. There it is, the door. The sun was setting quickly. It had been daylight when they started climbing, but the sun had begun to set when they were almost at the top. The company’s spirits drop the lower the sun dips behind the horizon. Dwalin moves and presses his fingers against the door, searching for the keyhole. But, he soon starts shouting about the door not being here.

    Thorin, in his panic, orders the company to break down the door. “It’s not good!” Balin shouts “The door is sealed, can’t be opened by force! There’s a powerful magic on it.”

    Finally, the Sun sinks behind the mountains and the light is gone. Thorin reads from the map, his voice raw with emotion, “‘The last light of Durin’s Day will shine upon the keyhole’... That is what it says.” He looks up to Balin. “What did we miss?”

    Balin shakes his head. “We’ve lost the light. There’s no more to be done. We had but once chance.” The company starts to turn away. “Come away, lads. It’s over.” And so they do. The company turns away and starts to make their way back to the staircase.

    Bilbo blinks, dumbfounded. “Wait a minute, where are they going?” she asks no one in particular. “You can’t give up now!” Thorin stares at the key in his hands before letting it slip onto the stone. “Thorin,” Bilbo says, and Thorin presses the map into her chest as he walks passed her. “You can’t give up now!”

    She approaches the stone and beings to recite the words written on the map to herself. She stares at the wall for a few moments when she hears a loud crack. She glances down to see a thrush. It had picked up a snail and was now cracking it against the stone, knocking. She turns around and watches the moon creep out from behind the clouds and begins to shine on the stone and settle on the keyhole. Her excitement traps the words in her throat before she calls out to the company, pleading for them to come back. “Come back! Come back! It’s the light of the Moon! The last Moon of Autumn!” She cries, “Where’s the key?” she mutters looking around her feet. She accidentally kicks the key in her panicked searching, nearly sending it off the cliff. Thorin’s boot stomps onto the leather cord and he slowly bends down to pick it up.

    When he stands, he slowly approaches the stone and inserts the key into the hole and turns it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations  
> Azluf-uru: I believe it's just 'sleep-over'  
> Periannath: Elvish word for hobbits
> 
> Wow, haven't translated anything in a long while. Anyway I hope you enjoyed this chapter, there is one more before we get into BotFA and I am so stressed out. I have like two sentences written for the first part of it and I don't want to do it. Also, I have decided to cut out the chapters with the Twins in them. I felt that there wasn't really a point to showing what was going on with them bc it didn't really add to the plot. I think I'll try to plan BotFA around six chapters as well, but it might go over that. so this fic will probably end at around 18-20 chapters, but that's a good length I think.  
> thank you for taking the time out of your day to read my fic, I really appreciate it.


	12. Inside Information

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing is more difficult than trying to write when you have cat.

    Thorin hesitates after turning the key, as if afraid of what would happen when he opened the door. Bilbo watches on as he presses the tips of his fingers against the stone and pushes. Long cracks begin to form, shaping the outline of a door, and with one last push, the door swings open. Whatever light the remains from outside spills into the secret path, chasing away the darkness. The company stares in awe at the corridor, and Bilbo realizes this is the first time most of them have ever seen the inside of the mountain at all, and the rest in a very long time. It takes a moment for anyone to move, and Thorin moves first. He steps inside the mountain first, followed by Balin, muttering to himself and touching the stone; and slowly the rest of the company cram into the corridor. Bilbo glances around at the path, settling her gaze on the carving just above the inside of the entrance, which Gloin and Nori were already looking at. The carving is of a chair, which she can only assume is the King’s Throne, with a small oval shape just above it.

    “Herein lies the Seventh Kingdom of Durin’s folk,” Gloin reads, “May the Heart of the Mountain unite all Dwarves in the defense of this home.”

    Balin appears at Bilbo’s side, and she tears her gaze away from the carving to look at the Dwarf. “The Throne of the King,” he says, confirming Bilbo’s assumption.

    The Hobbit nods and looks back at the carving. “And what’s that above it?” she asks.

    “The Arkenstone,” Balin answers.

    Bilbo nods again, but realizes she still doesn’t know what that is. “And what’s that?”

    “That,” Thorin begins, “Miss Burglar, is why you are here.”

    Bilbo gives Balin a confused look, unsure of what Thorin meant. Balin sighs and waves everyone out of the passage and back onto the ledge. “You were hired into this company to locate and retrieve the Arkenstone from the treasury of Erebor. But, before we send you into the treasure room to get the Arkenstone, we’d like you to just scout it. See what you can, assess the situation, and come back to report to us your findings. We’d also like it if you could bring us back a piece of the treasure, something we can see and hold.”

    Bilbo nods. “All right. I suppose I’m going alone, unless someone would like to come with me?” The company cannot meet her eyes. “Right.” She turns on her heel to stare into the corridor before taking a deep breath, squaring her shoulders, and marching inside.

    She admires the craftsmanship of the tunnel as she follows it to the treasury; the walls and floor are unbelievably smooth, and she can’t help but run her fingers along the wall as she walks. The further into the mountain she gets, the hotter it becomes. She supposes dragons must have give off a lot of heat to be able to breathe fire and she takes her coat off to accommodate the heat, and soon enough her waistcoat comes off as well, and once she reaches the treasure room, the top two buttons of her shirt have been undone.

    From the entrance to the treasury, Bilbo cannot see the dragon, but she can also not see most of the actual room, it seems to go on forever with endless piles of coins, jewels, and other golden objects. After standing there for a moment, she noiselessly goes down the stairs and stops just before the mountain of treasure. She stares at the millions of coins for a moment before deciding it would be too dangerous to try and get a better look at the room. So, she looks at what’s directly in front of her and picks up a two-handled goblet; it’s quite extravagant, solid gold with jewels embedded in it. She takes another long look around the treasure room before turning and leaving the mountain.

    The cold night air hits her like a wall, sending a hard shiver down her spine, and Thorin is immediately by her side, trying to wrap her in her coat. “Bilbo, are you insane? It’s freezing out here!”

    Bilbo blinks stupidly. “You said my name.”

    Thorin gives her a bewildered look. “What?”

    “This is the first time you called me by my first name in front of the company.” Bilbo clarifies, taking her coat off.

    “You’re going to freeze, put your clothes on!” Thorin repeats, trying to wrap Bilbo back in her coat.

    “What do you think I’m trying to do?” She pulls away from him and shoves the goblet into his chest. He grabs it and hands it off the someone else without even looking at it. She also presses her coat into his arms so she could put her waistcoat on first. After she put her coat back on and Thorin was content that she wouldn’t freeze to death, Balin puts the goblet back into Thorin’s hands. The Dwarf King stares at the goblet, brushing over the jewels embedded in the gold. “It was the first thing I grabbed, I didn’t want to be in there much longer.”

    “Of course.”

    The cup was still be passed around when a deep rumbling came from the mountain. “Was that an earthquake?” Ori asks, quietly

    Balin shakes his head. “That, my lad, was a dragon.”

    “Into the tunnel,” Bilbo demands, “It’s not good out here.”

    A deafening blast told them Smaug had burst through the Front Gate and they caught a glimpse of the beast spitting fire at them as the door closed.

    “Is anyone hurt?” Bilbo asks after the long moment of silence.

    A chorus of ‘no’s came from the company and she sighed. She glances down to see the blackened tips of the hair on her feet. She lets out a whine, catching Thorin’s attention. “Is something wrong?”

    “It’s the hair on my feet. The ends of it are burnt, but I suppose that’s better than singed off completely.”

    “It’ll grow back.”

    “I know, it’s just upsetting.”

    “Well, now that we’re inside,” Thorin begins, wanting the company’s attention, “We should wait for the dragon to settle before sending Bilbo in for the Arkenstone.” The company collectively agrees and they move further into the tunnel to settle in where it opens to a wider hall.

    Bilbo sits against the wall, thumbing the hem of her coat with her eyes closed. By the time they were passed the Misty Mountains, Bilbo had become tolerant of the snoring and farting of the company, and now, it doesn’t even bother her. But that’s not why she can’t sleep. Actually, she’s not entirely sure why she can’t sleep. She doesn’t feel nervous or scared, she just feels tired. 

    “Can’t sleep?” Thorin’s voice cuts the silence and startles Bilbo.

    “No,” she replies.

    “Nervous?” he asks.

    “No,” she repeats.

    “Then why?”

    “Not sure.”

    Thorin, who was sitting at the other side of the hall, stands and crosses to sit beside her. He drapes his arm around her and pulls her close to him; she welcomes it and leans against him. “Sleep, Bilbo,” Thorin tells her, “You got quite a day tomorrow.”

    Bilbo shifts around trying to get comfortable. “You’re a lot squishier than you were thirty years ago.”

    “You sure are boosting my confidence, Bilbo,” Thorin says, sarcastically.

    “It was meant to be a compliment,” Bilbo retorts, “You’re a lot more comfortable when you’re squishy.” Thorin chuckles and rests his cheek on the top of Bilbo’s head. Bilbo’s eyes flutter closed and she drifts off to sleep. 

 

    “Bilbo, Bilbo wake up.” She’s jostled in an attempt to wake her, but she just snuggles further into Thorin.

    “Bilbo, you’re going to miss breakfast.” She turns her head to look over her shoulder and casts a glare at whoever was trying to wake her.

    Bofur stares back at her with that stupid grin of his. “How are you this happy this early?” Bilbo wonders aloud.

    “Practice.”

    “How awake is Thorin?” Bilbo asks.

    Bofur glances at the Dwarf King’s face. “Out cold.”

    “Then so am I,” she says, putting her head back where it was before. Bofur laughs loudly, disturbing Bilbo’s slumber. So she glares at him again. “Go away, Bofur.”

    Bilbo wakes up again later when her personal furnace starts moving. She whines out a ‘no’ and clings onto him, trying to get him to stop moving.

    Thorin laughs. “Bilbo, you need to wake up now.”

    “Fine,” The Hobbit grumbles, sitting up and rubbing the sleep from her eyes “I’m awake, what time is it?”

    “It’s only been an hour or two since we first tried to wake you up,” Bofur informs.

    She nods. “I don’t suppose there’s anything for me to eat?”

    “We’ve got the last bit of salted pork left.”

    “Give it to me,” Bilbo demands, holding out her hand. Bofur laughs and hands it over, and Bilbo takes a large bite of one before speaking “So when am I going back in to get the rock, stone, whatsit, thingy?”

    “Arkenstone,” Thorin corrects, snagging one of the three pieces of pork from Bilbo.

    She glares at him as she chews. “That’s what I said.”

    “We were thinking later, in the evening, probably. It would give Smaug enough time to settle back down and you could go in and look for it.”

    She swallows the bite of salted pork before speaking again. “Right, How will we know when evening is?”

    “We’ve been taking shifts to check the time of day every hour or so,” Dwalin says, “There’s a balcony down this opposite hall.”

    Bilbo nods. “Well, I guess all there is to do is wait.”

    And so they do. They wait until Nori comes back from checking the time of day to say the sun was nearly down by the time he left the balcony.

    Bilbo sighs. “Right, I suppose I should be going now.” She doesn’t move to stand though.

    “Come on, Bilbo, I’ll walk you down.” Thorin stands up and holds out his hand to help her to her feet. She takes it and places her hand in the crook of his elbow once she’s stable.

    She turns back to the company, the Dwarves that she considers her family now. “I’ll be back, I promise. I’m not done with you lot yet” They all laugh and Bilbo and Thorin make their way down the hall.

    “So I’m looking for a stone, jewel, rock, what?” Bilbo asks once they made a few turns.

    “A jewel, a large white jewel,” Thorin answers.

    “I’m looking for a jewel? Only I imagine there’s quite a few down there.”

    “There’s only one Arkenstone,” Thorin says, “You’ll know it when you see it.”

    Bilbo nods. “Right, okay.” They continue down the hall, towards the treasury.

    Thorin pauses, a few turns away from the entrance to the treasury. “I don’t want to get too close,” he explains, and Bilbo nods in understanding.

    “Thorin, what… what if I don’t find it?” She asks hesitantly, “I don’t even know where the bottom of the treasury is, what if it’s buried?”

    “Then we’ll chase Smaug out, and search until it’s found.”

    Bilbo looks at Thorin, bewildered. “Thorin, do you not hear yourself?”

    “What do you mean?”

    “Chase him out? And send him where? Laketown? Where our children and your sister’s children are? And then to go search for a stupid stone that could very well be at the bottom of the hoard? A golden hoard that a Dragon’s been sleeping on?”

    “You’re afraid,” Thorin realizes.

    “Yes, I am afraid!” Bilbo cries, “I fear for you.” She places a hand on the left side of Thorin’s chest, over his heart. “A sickness lies on that treasure hoard, Thorin. A sickness that drove your grandfather mad.”

    “I am not my grandfather.”

    “You’re not yourself! That stone should not mean more to you than those Dwarves, their lives. Especially, not your Niece and Nephew’s.”

    “It doesn’t! Our Company means more to me than anything!”

    “Then why are you so desperate for it?!” Thorin doesn’t reply, he just turns away. Bilbo sighs, “Thorin, I’m sorry. This is a terrible way to say goodbye.”

    “Not goodbye” Thorin mutters.

    “Sorry?”

    “I said it’s not goodbye. It’s a--”

    “See you later?” Thorin nods. He stares at Bilbo for a moment, as if trying to decide whether or not to do something, before cupping her face and leaning in. “Thorin, not yet.” Thorin straightens and takes his hand back. “I can’t, not right now. How about, a hug now, and afterward, then we’ll see.”

    Thorin’s lips tug into a sad smile, but he nods. “I think I could live with that.” They share a tight hug, seeming like they didn’t want to ever let go of each other. “You needn’t go if you don’t want to,” Thorin says, “There’s no dishonor in turning back.” 

    “No, Thorin. I promised I would do this,” Bilbo says, “I think I must try, at the least.”

    Thorin chuckles, “It never ceases to amaze me, your courage.”

    Eventually, they break apart and they turn their separate ways, Thorin back to the Company and Bilbo to the Treasury.

    She enters the treasury and lets herself actually look this time. Yesterday, she wanted to get in and out in as little time as possible, but now, she’s looking for something specific, she need to take her time and not overlook anything. She stands at the last step before the treasure, staring at the gold for a few minutes before gathering her courage and stepping off the stone and onto the treasure. It takes a moment to get used to standing on it, her feet slide around and sink into the gold, and every step she takes seems noisier than the last.

    She comes upon a small gathering of goblets and bowls full of jewels and the like, so she begins sifting through it. She picks up one, it was large, but it was red. And of course it was a recurring theme, this jewel’s too big, that one’s too small, this one’s not white. She picks up another, it was large, but then again she doesn’t know how large the Arkenstone is so this one could be too big, and it was sort of white, but it was more clear than anything. The Hobbit sighs and tosses the jewel over her shoulder, realizing her mistake as soon as it left her hand. She turns to look when she’d thrown it and shushes it as it jingles and clatters against the other gems and gold items. “Large white jewel,” she repeats to herself, looking around at the endless room, “Very helpful.”

    She continues onward, though, unsure how much time she had spent in the treasury, but it certainly felt like hours. She still hasn’t seen the dragon, which is definitely unnerving. There is a very small possibility that Smaug is no longer in the mountain, that he is watching the hidden door like a cat would watch a mousehole, waiting for them to leave the way they entered, but Bilbo doesn’t want to take that risk, so she stays as quiet as she possibly can.

    After searching for longer, Bilbo passes what she believes to be the tenth goblet she’s seen. She picks it up to inspect it, to see if it is in fact the exact same as the last few or if it’s different. She doesn’t get the chance to find out, as when she picks it up, it disrupts the balance of the coins and sends a lot of them sliding down towards her. Her heart stops in her chest when the slide of coins uncovers a large eye, a dragon’s eye, and she darts behind a pillar. A heavy breath uncovers the tip of the snout and she can hear now hundreds of coins being shifted and moved by the dragon lying underneath them. On the opposite side of the gigantic pillar she’s trying to hide behind, is the Dragon’s tail. Her heart hammers in her chest, of course she knew the dragon would be extremely large, but seeing how big it is in person is absolutely horrifying.

    She tries to stealthily move away from the dragon but her legs seem to not want to work after hearing the dragon slide down the treasure hoard toward her, and she lowers to her knees to attempt to calm herself down enough so that she could keep moving. She turns and starts to walk backwards down the pile of gold, watching the dragon very carefully. It’s large eye opens and she dives to hide behind the treasure. She pulls her Ring from the pocket of her waistcoat, and hesitates for a moment before putting it on. After a moment of building up her courage, she turns and stands slowly seeing Smaug had uncovered himself.

    “Well, Thief,” The Dragon begins, moving slowly over her, “I smell you, I hear your breath, I feel your air. Where are you?” Bilbo stands again and Smaug moves into her face. “Where are you?” The Hobbit panics and darts down the mountain of treasure, her feet slipping and sliding over the gold coins, sending bouts of panic down her spine every time her foot slips out from under her. Smaug snarls and chases after her. She reaches another pillar, one similar to the first on she hide behind. and steps into a crevice in it, pressing her back against it and trying to hide as well as she can. “Come along, don’t be shy,” Smaug says, “Step into the light.” The Dragon moves, making it’s way around the pillar Bilbo is hiding behind. “There is something about you,” he comments, “Something you carry, something made of gold. But far more precious.” The word echoes in Bilbo’s mind, making her head throb in pain, and she doesn’t even realize she’s taken off the ring until Smaug acknowledges her. “There you are, Thief in the Shadows.”

    Bilbo begins to nod stupidly, but quickly shakes her head. Her heart pounds in her chest as she thinks of something to say, but her mouth feels like cotton. She swallows hard and takes a few deep breaths before speaking. “I did not come to steal from you, O Smaug the Unassessably Wealthy,” She begins, “I merely wanted to gaze upon your magnificence. To see if you really were as great as the old tales say.” Her voice cracks and moves to a higher pitch when Smaug starts to move again, afraid that he would snap and eat her right then. “I did not believe them!” 

    Bilbo watches as the dragon moves and poses in a most magnificent way, his head held high and his chest thrust forward, letting the light hit the coins and jewels that had become embedded into his scales from the many years of sleeping on the treasure. “Do you now?” he booms, his voice echoing off the walls of the treasury.

    Bilbo nods dumbly, “Truly, the tales, and songs, fall utterly short of your enormity, O Smaug the Stupendous.”

    Smaug’s head tilts. “Do you think flattery will keep you alive?” he asks.

    Bilbo shakes her head quickly, giving herself a light headache. “No, no.”

    “No, indeed,” He says as he moves around, not getting closer to Bilbo, but not farther away either. “You seem familiar with my name, but I don’t remember smelling your kind before.” He moves closer after this statement and continues to do so while he speaks. “Who are you, and where do you come from, may I ask?”

    Bilbo takes a deep breath, trying to calm herself before she answers, when something catches her eye. Slightly off to the right, there lies a stone on the very top of a pile of gold. A jewel that seems to give off it’s own source of light. Bilbo’s breath catches in her throat, this must be the Arkenstone. She flicks her gaze back to Smaug, as to not call attention to the stone, and answers. “I come from under the Hill.”

    “Underhill?” The wyrm queries.

    Bilbo nods. “And under hills and over hills, my path has lead,” she says with a nervous chuckle, “And through the air. I am she who walks unseen.”

    “Impressive,” Smaug comments, moving around again, “What else do you claim to be?”

    He moves himself in front of Bilbo, his snout mere feet away from her face. “I am Luck-Wearer,” she says, then waves a hand in front of her face to try and rid Smaug’s awful breath from entering her nose. “R-Rid.. Riddle-Maker.”

    “Lovely Titles.”

    “Barrel-Rider.”

    “Barrels?” Smaug asks, and Bilbo realizes she’s said too much. “Now that is interesting.” The dragon retreats. “And what about your little Dwarf friends? Where are they hiding?”

    “Dw- Dwarves?” Bilbo fehns ignorance, “No, no Dwarves here. You got that all wrong.”

    “Oh I don’t think so, Barrel Rider,” Smaug says, “They sent you in here to do their dirty work, while they skulk about.” Bilbo takes his speech as a chance to inch closer to the Arkenstone, halting when Smaug turns back to look at her.

    “Truly, you are mistaken,” She insists, ”O Smaug, Chiefest and Greatest of Calamities.”

    “You have nice manners,” Smaug comments, “For a Thief and a Liar. I know the smell and taste of Dwarf, no one better! And you, Thief, reek of them.” Bilbo inches closer to the Arkenstone and Smaug continues. “It is the gold, they are drawn to the treasure like flies to dead flesh.” Smaug disrupts the gold around the Arkenstone by stepping down, sending the stone skipping down the treasure hoard. Bilbo chases after it, not paying too much attention to Smaug’s words. She needs to focus on keeping it in her sights and not losing it. It’s hard to focus as Smaug continues to use all his force to knock the pillars over, further shifting the gold and sending the stone further down the hoard. “The King Under the Mountain is dead,” Smaug announces, as he chases Bilbo down the treasury. “I took his throne, I ate his people, like a wolf among sheep.” Bilbo continues to chase after the Arkenstone, though she’s more tumbling after it than running, but the light it gives off is very helpful for keeping it in her sights. “I kill where I wish, when I wish!” Smaug continues, “My armour is iron, no blade can pierce me!” Bilbo dives after the Arkenstone and suddenly finds herself underneath a random platform in the middle of the treasury with Smaug perched on top of it. “It’s Oakenshield,” the wyrm theorizes, “That filthy Dwarvish usurper. He sent you in here for the Arkenstone, didn’t he?”

    “I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Bilbo shouts, creeping her way toward the stone.

    “Don’t bother denying it!” Bilbo jumps back to under the safety of the platform after Smaug moves to wrap his claws around on of the pillars. “I guessed his foul purpose some time ago. But it matters not.” Smaug looks underneath the platform, trying to spot the Hobbit. “Oakenshield’s quest will fail. The darkness is coming, it will spread to every corner of the land. You are being used, Thief in the Shadows,” Smaug taunts, “You were only ever a means to an end. The coward Oakenshield has weighed the value your life and found it worth nothing!”

    Bilbo, who was silent up until now, spoke. “No, you’re lying!” She wouldn’t let this beast try and trick her into believing lies. Thorin does care about her, he cares about everyone in the company, and he wouldn’t let anything happen to them.

    “What did he promise you?” the Dragon asks, “A share of the treasure? As if it was his to give.” Smaug goes to perch himself on top of the small platform. “I will not part with a single coin! Not one piece of it!” Bilbo takes off into a run after the Arkenstone, but Smaug flicks his tail, throwing Bilbo, the Arkenstone, and a number of coins into the air. Bilbo hits the solid ground and rolls into a pillar, knocking her head against it. The Hobbit groans and rubs at her head where she hit it, the tender touches to the flesh sends sparks of pain to her head. “My teeth are swords, my claws are spears! My wings are a hurricane!” Smaug thrusts his chest forward and Bilbo notices a dark mark on the left side of his chest, a missing scale. 

    She then recalls Bain’s words all those weeks ago, when they first arrived in Laketown. “So it is true,” she whispers, “The Black Arrow found it’s mark.”

    “What did you say?” Smaug snarls.

    Bilbo stumbles backwards, stammering. “I was just saying, your reputation precedes you, O Smaug the Tyrannical. Truly, You have no equal on this Earth.” Bilbo glances to her right and sees the Arkenstone sitting in a small pile of coins, so close, just out of reach.

    “I am almost tempted to let you take it,” Smaug comments, “If only to see Oakenshield suffer. Watch it destroy him, watch it corrupt his heart and drive him mad. But I think not. I think our little game ends here. Tell me, thief, how do you choose to die?” Bilbo shoves the ring onto her finger as Smaug darts forward and she takes off to the right, grabbing the Arkenstone and hiding behind a broken pillar when Smaug begins to spit fire.

    She runs through a doorway into a staircase, removes her ring and leans up against the wall to catch her breath. She then slips the ring back into her pocket and continues up the stairs. Bilbo tries to stay inside the stairs and the corridors, rather than out in the open where Smaug could see her, as she makes her way back to where she entered the treasury.

    She rounds a corner and dashes up the stairs, where she is startled by Thorin’s voice, “You’re alive,” he says, almost surprised.

    “Not for much longer!” she replies, continuing up the stairs.

    “Did you find the Arkenstone?” Thorin asks, blocking the doorway.

    “The Dragon’s coming!” Bilbo stresses.

    “The  _ Arkenstone _ ,” Thorin repeats, “Did you find it?” This is when Bilbo first sees the madness in Thorin’s eyes and it’s terrifying, making the Arkenstone sit heavily in her coat. She stares at him for a moment, assessing.

    “We have to get out,” She says taking a step forward, only to have Thorin’s sword block the way, the iron clanging against the stone. She glances up at him and his blade turns, the flat end no longer against the stone, “Thorin.” She steps backwards, moving away from the sword, and Thorin steps closer. She looks into his eyes, and all she can see is madness, nothing but cold, dark madness. “Thorin,” She repeats, louder this time, trying to bring him back. She glances away from him for a moment when she sees movement to the right of them and sees Smaug closing in. The Dwarrow looks at her strangely, tilting his head, and moves his gaze to where she was looking, and with that, the madness was gone for the moment, but perhaps not completely.

    It’s at this time that the rest of the company charge out of the doorway and stand in front of them with their weapons drawn. Smaug’s chest glows with his next few words, preparing for a breath of fire. “You will burn!” Both Thorin and Dwalin cry out, ordering the company to run, and they all turn and jump into the gold behind the walkway, preventing the fire from reaching them, then rush through the doorway that Bilbo had originally gone through to escape.

    Thorin, who was the last to go through the doorway, rushes in, his top coat had caught fire. Bilbo isn’t entirely sure what had happened, because the Dwarf was moving too quickly, but she believes Thorin rolled and while he was still on the floor, had removed his coat and stood again, then immediately started leading them away.

    Thorin leads them through corridors and staircases, away from the dragon, and toward wherever he wanted them to be. After a good few minutes of no sign of the Dragon, the company pauses at a bridge to listen; it’s silent, no noise whatsoever. “We’ve given him the slip,” Dori whispers.

    Dwalin shakes his head. “No,” he replies, “He’s too cunning for that.”

    “So where to now?” Bilbo asks, trying to keep her voice as quiet as possible.

    “The Western Guardroom,” Thorin answers, “There may be a way out.”

    “It’s too high,” Balin argues, “There’s no chance that way.”

    “It’s our only chance. We have to try.”

    After a short discussion, they start to inch across the bridge as quietly as possible. Which isn’t entirely quiet, too noisy for Bilbo’s tastes. The Dwarves’ boots make scuff noises along the stone, while her feet make no noise at all. The sudden clink of a coin against the stone halts the company, and Bilbo’s heart stops. SHe glances down to look at the single gold coin resting on the stone in front of her feet. Her brow furrows in confusion, she didn’t have any coins on her, so why would a coin fall directly in front of her? Suddenly another coin clinks, then another and another. The company all slowly glance up to see the belly of the beast passing over them. Bilbo holds her breath, though she doesn’t realize until the wyrm leaves and she lets go of the breath she was holding; and once he’s gone, Thorin waves them along.

    Once they are in the safety of the enclosed space at the other side of the bridge, they run toward the guardroom. But once they enter the room, they stop and stare. Old, cob-web covered bodies cover the floor. The stench of death has long been gone and the room doesn’t smell of anything, really. The bodies are still wearing their clothes, their hair is still intact, but their skin, it’s black. It’s not charred though, they hadn’t been burned, the fire didn’t reach them here, but the smoke had. They’d died choking on smoke trying to get out, but they couldn’t. The other way out of the guardroom had been blocked, the hall probably collapsed during Smaug’s rampage, and trapped them. And after they died, the heat had turned their skin to leather, perfectly preserving them in the pose that they died in.

    “That’s it then,” Dwalin says, “There’s no way out.”

    Bilbo scans the room, her heart breaking the more she looked. It wasn’t just adults, but there were children too. She can see at least one infant, a few smaller children, and some older children; the infant is still being cradled in their mother’s arms, as are a most of the smaller dwarflings. She looks away, unable to take the scene in anymore, and takes Dwalin’s hand for comfort. He glances down at her before giving her hand a gentle squeeze. As she looks around at the other members of the company, she can see most of them cannot look either, and are seeking out each other for comfort.

    “We could try to reach the mines,” she hears Balin say, “We might last a few days.”

    “No,” Thorin mutters, “I will not die like this. Cowering, clawing for breath.” He turns around to face the company. “We make for the forges.”

    “He’ll see us,” Dwalin says, grim, “Sure as death.”

    “Not if we split up.”

    “We’ll never make it,” Balin argues.

    “Some of us might,” Thorin replies, “Lead him to the forges, we kill the dragon. If this is to end in fire, then we will all burn together.”

    They split up, and as there are twelve of them, they split into four groups of three. Thorin, Bilbo, and Balin; Dwalin, Nori, and Bofur; Bifur, Oin, and Gloin; and Ori, Dori, and Bombur. It comes as a surprise to all of the company, even Bilbo and Bofur, when Ori grabs Dwalin by the beard and pulls him down to plant a kiss on his mouth. Ori and Dwalin are both red in the face after this, and, unsurprisingly, so is Dori. Of course, Ori and Dwalin are embarrassed, and Dori, well, she’s angry. More than angry, actually; she’s quite furious. Bofur quickly collects Nori and Dwalin before ushering them out to where they’re supposed to go before Dori can explode. Bombur does the same with Dori and Ori, and eventually all the groups are running in the direction they’re supposed to be going.

    Smaug spots Thorin, Bilbo, and Balin first as they run across a bridge. “Flee, flee!” the dragon taunts, “Run for your lives! There is nowhere to hide.”

    Dori shouts from behind Smaug, redirecting his attention, and Thorin, Bilbo, and Balin continue on. This is how the first part of their plan goes, each party distracts the dragon from another when he gets too close. But they all keep him moving towards the forges.

    Bilbo, Thorin, and Balin find themselves running down a wide corridor towards the mines, when Balin halts at a doorway, but Bilbo and Thorin keep going, so he shouts at them. “It’s this way! This way!” Bilbo stops closer than Thorin, and calls to him. He turns around to see the dragon moving into that hall.

    “Follow Balin,” He orders, taking steps backward.

    Bilbo moves backwards, calling to the Dwarf King, and Balin grabs her and pulls her toward the doorway, holding her close to him when the dragon spits a ball of fire down the hall. “We have to keep moving,” Balin says, grabbing her wrist and pulling her down the hallway.

    “What about Thorin?” Bilbo asks, allowing herself to be lead away.

    “I’m sure he’ll be fine,” the old Dwarrow answers, “He has to be.”

    Once everyone has gathered in the mines, they all sort of look lost now, unsure what to do. Thorin runs into the room following Nori, and Dwalin expresses his concern for the plan. “The plan’s not going to work,” he says, walking up to his King, “These furnaces are stone cold.”

    “He’s right,” Balin confirms, approaching Thorin as well, “We’ve no fire hot enough to set them ablaze.”

    “Have we not?” Thorin says, turning toward the gate. “I did not look to see you so easily outwitted!” He shouts, as Smaug climbs up the stone toward to gate. And Bilbo realizes he taunting the dragon so that he will light the forges. “You’ve grown slow and fat in your dotage, slug.” Thorin turns around and tells the company to take cover, and Smaug spouts his flame through the gate and lights one the the furnaces, which, in turn, lights the rest of them. Thorin then takes charge and orders the company to do certain things. “Bombur! Get those bellows working!” The rotund Dwarf nods and quickly runs off to do as he’s told. “Bilbo!” The Hobbit’s head snaps in the direction of the Dwarf King. “Up there,” he says pointing to a staircase, “On my mark, pull that lever.” Bilbo nods and runs toward the staircase. 

    She can’t hear Thorin’s specific words to the other Dwarves but she can generally hear him shouting as she climbs the stairs. She stares at the lever, afraid she might be too short to reach it, but she assures herself that if Thorin thought her incapable of executing this task, then he would not have asked her in the first place. She glances at the gate where Smaug is still ramming his body against it trying to get inside. The dragon suddenly bursts the the broken metal and scans the room. He wanders about, and pauses just before reaching Bilbo, and looks to the left. Thorin stands there with Dwalin and Nori at his sides. Bilbo shifts her weight from foot to foot, nervous and antsy, waiting to be told to pull the lever. “Now!” Bilbo springs into action and jumps up, grabbing the handle on the lever and pulling it down. There are clanking noises, telling Bilbo the lever did something, before huge spurts of water shoot out from the wall, soaking Smaug and extinguishing his fire. The wyrm shrieks and gets away from the water as quickly as he can, moving to the other side of the forges.

    The pressure dies down and the water does what it’s intended to do, turn the great stone wheels, which turn the gears, which puts everything into motion. Smaug approaches again, more furious now that he was drenched in water. The first flash-flame startles Bilbo when it explodes against Smaug’s side, but it otherwise does nothing; Smaug remains unaffected by each one thrown at him, and he continues to stalk toward Thorin.

    Gloin cuts the cable that moves the carts along, sending them down on top of the dragon. Smaug thrashes, trying to remove his bindings, but only wraps them further around himself. Bilbo watches as Thorin runs and pulls on a large chain, which opens a door at the bottom of the furnace, sending liquidized gold through the paths in the floor. The dragon continues to thrash and in his thrashing he crashes into the staircase Bilbo stands on. The stone crumbles, sending the Hobbit flying to the ground. Her ears ring and her head throbs and when she starts to get up, her shoulder and hip protest; but she ignores her pain and continues onward.

    “Keep going, Bilbo!” she hears Thorin shout, and she listens. She runs, fleeing from Smaug, in no particular direction. She leaps onto a smooth ramp, one she’s not entirely sure people were supposed to walk on, and slides down it with the dragon chasing after her. Smaug, not able to fit through the way she was going, just barrels into whatever’s in his way to make room for him, destroying most of it. She smoothly, and surprisingly, transitions from sliding to running when the ramp connected to the floor and keeps running. She runs through a large doorway and into a large open room, Smaug on her tail. The wyrm bursts through the carved out wall above the door, breaking pillars and sending the enormous tapestries to the floor. The metal parts of the tapestry that kept it attached to the wall nearly crush Bilbo, but fortunately, she’s not crushed and is safely hidden underneath the fabric of the tapestry.

    “You think you can deceive me, Barrel Rider?” He questions, turning around to look for the Hobbit. She lifts the tapestry just enough so that she can see the dragon from underneath it. “You have come from Laketown!” Smaug growls, “This is some sordid scheme hatched between these  filthy Dwarves, and those miserable tub-trading Lakemen! Those sniveling cowards, with their long bows and Black Arrows!” The dragon stops his pacing, and turns toward the the Front Gate. “Perhaps it is time I paid them a visit.”

    Bilbo freezes under the tapestry, he can’t go to Laketown. Her children are there, and Fili and Kili are there. Not to mention the hundreds of people who live in Laketown who had nothing to do with this stupid quest. She throws the Tapestry off herself and runs toward the dragon. “This isn’t their fault! Wait!” She shouts, “You cannot go to Laketown!”

    Smaug stops and turns back to face her. “You care about them, do you?” he queries, moving swiftly to get closer to Bilbo, “Good, then you can watch them die!” He turns away again to move toward the Gate, but again is stopped.

    “Here!” Thorin shouts, getting both the dragon and the Hobbit’s attention, “You witless wyrm!”

    Smaug sneers and turns around to face the Dwarf standing atop a giant rock formation, being held together by metal bands, and Bilbo’s fairly certain that the dragon has become quite irritated with these Dwarves. “You,” the beast growls, stalking towards him.

    “I’m taking back what you stole,” Thorin announces, as the dragon crawls forward, closer to the him and the large hunk of stone he stood upon.

    “You will take nothing from me, Dwarf,” Smaug retorts, “I laid low your warriors of old. I instilled terror in the hearts of Men. I am King Under the Mountain.”

    “This is not your kingdom,” The Dwarf spits, “These are Dwarrow lands, this is Dwarrow gold, and we will have our revenge.” He then shouts something in Khuzdul and pulls a rope, causing the bands that were holding the stone together to come apart. He grabs onto a chain to hold onto as the stones fall, revealing a golden statue of a magnificent looking Dwarf whom Bilbo can only assume is Thrain. Smaug becomes entranced by the statue, or the gold that makes up the statue, rather.

    His entranced state doesn’t last long, it ends when a bubble of liquid gold bursts from the statue’s eye, as well as a few other places on it, and the statue collapses, as the gold did not have enough time to set. The burning hot liquid covers the dragon, and fills the floor in the hall. Smaug thrashes in pain before collapsing into the pool of gold. It’s silent for a moment, still. And suddenly, Smaug bursts through the surface of the gold, his body coated in gold. “Revenge?” He roars, clawing his way out of the pool and towards the gate, “Revenge? I will show you revenge!” He leaves and Bilbo chases after him, terrified of what she’s about to see. She exits the mountain, through the destroyed Front Gate, and stops at a piece of stone that had been broken off from the mountain, and watches the Dragon, no longer covered in gold, fly heavy and slow, like some monstrous crow, down the wind towards the south and the Running River.

    Bilbo breathes heavily and watches with a terrified look on her face, unable to do anything else. Her hands grip the stone she lies upon, sweat drips down her face, and the cold breeze combs through her hair, cooling the sweat and making her shiver. It’s a full minute later, when she finally speaks again, her voice just barely above a whisper. “What have we done?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there we have it. The end of DOS. I hope you enjoyed this chapter and the others for the second film, I'm going to get into writing the third film, so there will be a bit of a break. Hopefully it won't be too long, but it will most likely be a month at the least. Writing botfa is going to be a bit harder than writing the first two films bc I had already written then and knew what I wanted for them, so it was fairly easy to rewrite them. botfa is going to be different bc I have been avoiding it in this fic since I first started writing it. I'll try to get it done as soon as possible, but I procrastinate and I get bored easily. So it'll be a while before I get back to this fic, but I promise I won't rewrite it again.


	13. The Mad King

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello. It's been quite a while hasn't it? I'll keep this first note short, but it's been a year and (nearly) two weeks since I've last updated this. I'll be honest, I fell out of love with this fic very early on, I actually hated writing it towards the end there, which is why it took me so long to finish the first chapter of BOTFA, but it's here. I'm not abandoning this fic, over the last few weeks I've actually grown to tolerate this fic now. I don't hate it, and I'm content with finishing it now. Anyway, I'll talk more at the end.

    Bilbo stares in horror as Laketown is painted with breath after breath of flames, and she feels as though she’s been submerged in the very waters of the Long Lake. She feels cold, like ice is seeping through her skin and into her bones; her hearing is muffled, like her ears are filled with water; and her eyes, they burn and are blurred with tears. She cannot blink enough to clear her vision, as her tears continue to flow, and she cannot move from her place atop Raven Hill. Her heart thumps loudly in her chest and she doesn’t realize she’s been holding her breath until her lungs scream for air. She gasps for breath and turns away from the sight, unable to look on anymore. She glances around at the company, noticing that they’re one short. Her eyebrows furrow and she looks back the way they came, and, as she suspected, there is Thorin. The Dwarf is hunched in on himself, his right arm raised to touch his face, and is staring back at the destroyed Front Gate.

    At first, Bilbo believes he might be feeling the guilt of releasing the Dragon onto Laketown, but the heavy feeling in her gut says otherwise. She’s afraid of seeing the Thorin that she saw when he first entered the treasury, but she’s sure that that’s what’s going to happen. She stares at him for a good moment before turning back around to look back at Laketown. The city continues to burn, and Bilbo really didn’t know what she expected when she turned back. There’s a brief moment where Smaug isn’t in the sky, and Bilbo’s eyes dart over the city, searching for the beast. She’s startled when the creature suddenly emerges from the town, clawing his way up into the sky, when he falls and crashes into the city below. Bilbo takes in a sharp breath, not believing what she just saw.

    “What was that?” Someone asks; Ori, she believes. “What happened?”

    “The dragon, it fell, I saw it,” she replies, making her way to the edge and leaning slightly over the barrier to peer over the lake. After a few seconds of stillness, Bilbo turns back to her Dwarves with a look of disbelief. “It’s dead. Smaug is dead.”

    “By my beard,” Gloin begins, “I think you’re right. Look there!” Bilbo turns and sees cawing ravens flying above their heads and toward the mountain. “The Ravens of Erebor are returning to the mountain!”

    “Aye,” Balin says, “Word will spread, soon, every soul in Middle Earth will know the dragon is dead!” The company cheers but Bilbo frowns and looks back to where Thorin stands, worried for the Dwarf King’s well being, but he’s gone. The Hobbit sighs sadly, and a hand is placed on her shoulder, pulling her attention away from Thorin. Bofur offers her a supportive smile and she grabs his forearm and responds with a thankful one. He pats her on the shoulder and leads her and the rest of the company back to the mountain. That night, they find the food stores and celebrate the death of Smaug with what wine and food survived the dragon and the one hundred and seventy years that the mountain has been empty. So, as expected, there wasn’t much food, but at least the wine survived.

    They celebrate in what Bilbo believes to be a large dining hall, perhaps not a public dining hall, it seems to small for that, but somewhere you’d entertain a large group of guests. The Company plays music and dances, they chat and sing and tell jokes, and just over all celebrate their victory; they’ve won their home back, they’re  _ here _ . Bilbo watches Bifur and Bofur dance with amusement as she drinks her wine, the two of them move in unison and it’s mesmerizing to see how well they dance together, kicking and stomping their feet to the beat of the cheerful music and doing fun little jigs. She thinks briefly to her children and niece and nephew, wishing they were here and hoping to all the Valar that they were safe. Another large gulp of her wine and Bofur’s outstretched hand chases her terrified thoughts away and she takes his hand and lets him lead her into a dance.

    Bilbo manages to get Bofur to let her sit after two dances, as she’d begun to get dizzy, whether from the wine or the dancing, or both, she didn’t know. But she sits again and watches the other members of the company as she sips her drink, a tankard of water at Bofur’s insistence. She sweeps her gaze over the room, noting the absence of one Dwarvish King, and wonders why he hasn’t joined in their celebrations. But before she’s able to worry about the estranged Dwarrow, Bofur is pulling her into another dance.

    After their third dance, the two of them make their way to where the wine is to refill their goblets. Bilbo laughs at Bofur’s joke as she pours another glass of wine for herself, then pauses and fills another. “What do you need two goblets for?” the Dwarf asks with a chuckle.

    “I’m going to see if our wondrous King will join in our celebration,” she answers with a smile, before it falls, “I worry about him.”

    The cheerful Dwarrow nods. “Good luck, then.” Bilbo nods and takes the metal goblets with her to find Thorin. 

    It doesn’t take much time, since the first place she checks in the treasury, and that’s where she finds him. He’s on one of the balconies, staring over the gold. Bilbo makes her way back out of the main entrance to the treasury and find her way to the specific balcony that Thorin stands on, and she clears her throat in the doorway before she steps out onto it, as not to startle the Dwarf. He looks over his shoulder and flicks his head, motioning for Bilbo to join him at his side. “I brought you some wine, it’s not bad, really, considering how old it is. Older than you, it said.” She holds out the goblet for him to take and he inspects it before taking it, sniffing it, and taking a sip. “I wanted to make sure you got some before Bofur drinks it all.” Bilbo chuckles, then awkwardly clears her throat when Thorin doesn’t join her. “You should join us, we’re having quite a bit of fun, and I’m sure it would be more amusing than sitting up here; gold can dance or tell bad jokes, or at least not that I’ve heard of.”

    Thorin’s mouth twitches into a smile, and Bilbo grins at her small victory. Thorin holds out his hand and Bilbo takes it, his large hand encasing her’s. “I’d like to show you something,” he says. Bilbo nods, silently telling him to lead the way, and Thorin takes them out of the treasury, through halls and up a staircase, and finally stops at a door, at two doors actually. They’re large and ornate, with designs carved into the stone and filled with gold to outline where the door is, and a symbol in the middle of both doors, one she doesn’t recognize. He lets go of her hand and opens the door and lets Bilbo enter first, the room is dark until Thorin lights the torches and Bilbo discovers it’s a sitting room. There’s a fireplace with a sofa and two armchairs in front of it, and on the other side of the room there’s a small kitchen and dining area. There are also two doors on either side of the room.

    Bilbo turns to Thorin with a look of confusion. “What is this place?” she asks.

    “These were my parents rooms,” the Dwarrow explains, “That door over there leads to the master bedroom and the one beside the fireplace leads to what was mine and my siblings bedrooms.”

    Bilbo’s brow only furrows deeper, still not getting quite the explanation she was looking for. “And you’re showing them to me because...?” The Hobbit trails off, hoping Thorin would understand where she was going with that, and finish her statement for her.

    The Dwarf King gives her a fond and amused look; it gives her a swell of hope in her chest that maybe he won’t succumb to the sickness. “I would like for you to stay here,” He says, “You are welcome to use these rooms as you wish.” Bilbo looks at Thorin with a curious expression and notices there is little trace of madness in his eyes, which only helps to fuel her hope that he won’t fall to it. She offers him a gentle smile, which he returns, which only makes her smile wider; perhaps he is strong enough to overcome what others believed to be inevitable. Not that she didn’t believe in him, she did, she  _ does _ , she’s just afraid.

    “I would be honored to stay here,” she replies, finally, and Thorin’s grin widens, “Though it is a bit stale, we’ll need to air it out.”

    Thorin nods in agreement. “There are windows, and a balcony in the bedroom, we are on the very outside of the mountain here, my mother insisted,” he informs, “Their bedroom used to be further in and closer to my grandparents room, this was just a guest room for visiting lords. But my mother insisted on being able to go outside, it was one of her odd quirks.” Bilbo smiles in amusement, thinking to herself how strange it is for someone to be considered  _ odd _ for wanting to go outside. “It took a good few months to complete it, there was quite the bit of construction. But, my mother loved it, and my father wanted her to be happy. I figured you would like it here; and from our time in Mirkwood, you grew pale and almost sickly from staying out of the sunlight, I would not want that for you again.”

    Bilbo grins and Thorin returns the smile. “Would you help me open the windows?” Thorin nods and Bilbo heads to the bedroom while Thorin stays in the sitting room. Bilbo shoves open the balcony and steps out to breath in the cool night air, but before she can breath in deeply, she can smell the fire and jerks back into the room. She’d nearly forgotten. Bilbo shakes her head and goes to open the only window in the bedroom, then goes to inspect the second door in the bedroom. It’s a bathroom, and the first thing she sees is the tub. Unlike her own in Bag End, which sits  _ on _ the floor, this tub is built  _ into _ the floor, and has steps that go down into the octogonal-shaped bath. It’s not very deep, and she expects it goes up at least passed her shoulders, but Dwarrow are much taller that Hobbits on average, so she’s sure it goes well over her head. Curious, she kneels by the tap and pulls on the valve, wanting to see if the plumbing had survived all these years. At first, nothing happens, and she’s slightly disappointed, but then there’s a bang and water spurts from the faucet, scaring the Hobbit, who lets out a shriek, and then giggles at herself. She twiddles with the different things on the tap and pulls on a small lever that she discovers stops the drain and lets the tub fill. She runs her hand under the water and is surprised to see the water is already hot. There is a light knock on the door and Bilbo looks up to see Thorin. “Oh, hello.”

    “I see you got the tap to work,” he says, nodding his head towards the tap.

    “I did, I was surprised it worked,” she responds, “And I’m amazed that you have hot water coming out of the pipes, do you have something that heats the water before it leaves the faucet?”

    Thorin shakes his head and ventures further into the bathroom. “No, there are natural hot springs under the mountain, that’s where we get it from.”

    “Oh, that’s right, Dori told me, back in Lake Town. How do you get cold water then?” Bilbo queries.

    “There is a separate store for cold water,” The Dwarf explains, “It is the water from the Running River, it runs downstream and we built a collection system to reroute the water to be treated.”

    “Treated?” The Hobbit queries.

    Thorin nods before explain a little more thoroughly. “In the depths of the mountain, we have a treatment system. The water goes there where it is filtered and cleaned. After being treated, the water is safe to be used for anything, including drinking and cooking.”

    Bilbo gapes at the Dwarf. “That’s amazing, how does it work?” 

    Thorin smiles. “When Erebor is up and running once again, I will be glad to show you. I suppose you would like to use the bath, so I will take my leave. There should be towels in that cabinet.” Bilbo nods and waits for Thorin to exit the bathroom and shut the door behind him, then listens closely for him to leave the rooms entirely.

    The Hobbit sighs and quickly prays to the Valar that Thorin won’t succumb to the sickness before directing her attention to the filling bath. She pulls the wrapped Arkenstone from her coat and stares at it, wondering what damage this little thing was capable of. She shakes her head and wraps it back in her coat and then removes the rest of her clothing and steps into the bath. She scrubs at her body for what seems like hours and finally feels clean once she steps out. Of course once she gets out, she realizes that she most certainly does not want to get back into her clothing, as they are just as filthy as she was. So, she fill the tub up just enough and scrubs her clothes as clean as possible before draining the tub and draping her clothes over the side to dry. She exits the bathroom and roots through her pack to find her extra set of clothes. The clothing was something she had made during their stay in Laketown, It was designed after her original outfit she was wearing when they left. It was similar and delightfully Hobbitish, but it wasn’t the same. Her shirt was white with a golden waistcoat, a green overcoat, and dark brown trousers. Her brassier and underwear were also tailor-made, but they fit almost loosely. She’d have to put the weight back on for them to fit properly. But, for now, they’re perfect. She doesn’t bother with the clothes and just pulls on her underwear and exits the bathroom.

    Beside the bathroom door is a mirror and she goes to look at herself in it. She prods at her face and her body, internally complaining about how thin she is. She shakes her head and turns away from the looking glass and decides to do a little snooping, first deciding to poke through the wardrobes. One is obviously Thorin’s father’s, which holds very regal-looking and fancy garments, so she turns to look inside the other. She finds mostly formal dresses in that one, so she moves to the dresser. In there is undergarments, casual clothes, and nightclothes. She finds a dark blue nightgown that seems thick enough to sleep in and not too, too big for her, so she pulls it over her head and smoothes it out, then pulls her hair out from under the collar, which she’s noticed has become  _ entirely _ too long for her liking, and inspects herself in the mirror. She grabs the skirt and twirls around, giggling softly to herself like a faunt dressing up in her mother’s clothes, before she smoothes out the fabric and leaves the bedroom to inspect the bookshelf she saw behind the sofa. After searching for a moment, she  _ finally _ finds a book in Westron, a history book, then shrugs and tucks it under her arm before going to inspect the children’s rooms. The first is a nursery, it’s small with only a crib, changing table, a small dresser, and rocking chair, but Bilbo finds it charming. She goes through the next door and the room is much larger; there are two beds in this room, as well as two desks with chairs, a bookshelf, and a large toy chest. 

    There are scattered papers on the floor and Bilbo glances at them curiously before picking them up to look at them. The Hobbit smiles, looking at the scrawls on the parchment, small squiggly runes written on premade lines on the paper. She can’t read anything, but finds the practice writing absolutely precious. She is sure she can tell which are Thorin’s as some look more precise, most likely from a child determined to get his runes perfect, and others look much more sloppy, from a child determined to get his runes finished so he can go back to playing. She places the papers down on one of the desks and goes to inspect the toy chest. There are mostly carved wooden soldiers with some larger toys shaped like dragons and trolls. But there are a few that are jointed, these toys are bigger that the stationary toy soldiers, and have clothing and armour that can be taken off and changed.

    She sets the toy back into the chest and shuts and and looks around at the room again. On one of the beds lies a toy, a rag doll. It’s got a blue shirt and black trousers, black buttons for eyes, and yellow yarn for hair. She smiles at it and tucks it under her arm as well and leaves the children’s rooms to go back to the bedroom, closing windows and putting out torches on the way there. She pulls back the furs, quilt, and sheet and climbs into the bed, propping herself up against the headboard and pulling her knees up, then places the doll in her lap and opens her book. Not long after she begins to read, she lets out a large yawn and decides it would be best to sleep. She gets out of bed to shut and latch the balcony doors, but leaves the window open and put out the torches, then gets back into the bed and falls asleep.

    Some time in the night, Bilbo briefly wakes when the bed beside her dips. She glances over her shoulder as she reaches for Sting, which was propped against the nightstand, but sighs in relief when she sees that it’s just Thorin and goes back to sleep.

    When she wakes the following morning, she is alone and questioning whether Thorin came into the room at all the previous night, and perhaps she’d just imagined it. The Hobbit shakes her head, then throws back the covers and pads to the bathroom to wash her face. 

    After that, she gets dressed and heads down to the kitchen to help Bombur prepare a small breakfast with their rations. When she reaches the kitchen, Thorin is speaking with the rotund Dwarf. The Hobbit hesitantly knocks on the doorway, not wishing to interrupt, but wants to inform them of her arrival.  
“Ah, Bilbo,” Thorin says, “We were waiting for you.”

    Bilbo’s eyebrows furrow for a moment. “Were you?”

    “Yes, I wanted to show you something,” The Dwarf King says.

    Bilbo laughs. “You love showing me things don’t you?”

    Thorin smiles softy. “This is my home, I want you to see all of it.” The two of them stare at each other for a moment, both smiling warmly, when Bombur clears his throat, a bit uncomfortably. Thorin straightens and nods. “Right, come with me, Miss Baggins.” Bilbo nods and follows Thorin out of the kitchen.

    The Dwarf King walks beside her as he leads her through the many halls of Erebor towards whatever it is he wished to show her. “So, what is it that you want to show me?” Bilbo asks, curiously.

    “It’s a surprise,” Thorin states, a smile tugging at his lips. They walk for a good moment before approaching a door. “This is it,” he says, his small smile now a full grin.

    “And what is it?” Bilbo asks, playfully.

    “Open the door and you’ll see.”

    Bilbo snorts and turns the knob and pulls the door open. Her eyes widen as she takes in her surroundings. “A greenhouse?” Thorin nods. “How?” she steps inside the door and walks among all the overgrown, albeit healthy looking plants. The plants are separated into group; fruits, vegetables, herbs, and then there is another plot of plants for medicine. The room is massive, both in length and height, and the entire outside wall is made of glass. “Isn’t that dangerous? The glass?” she asks, also noting that this room is much warmer that the rest of the mountain; she then come to the conclusion that this room must be heated for the plants to grow properly.

    Thorin shakes his head. “No, not many dare to attack so high up the mountain,” he informs, “The climb is too steep and the risk of falling is great enough that it’s very much left alone. And besides, this is mithril glass.”

    Bilbo’s brow furrows. “What does that mean?” she asks.

    Thorin motions for her to follow. “Here, come look.” He leads her to the glass wall and run his index finger along the glass. Bilbo nearly doesn’t notice what he’s pointing to until she sees the shine. There are very tiny little veins of metal layered in the thick glass. “This is Mithril, silver steel. It cannot be broken when woven tightly. There are three layers of mithril in each pane of glass, making these windows nearly impossible to break.”

    Bilbo hums and inspects the window, before turning her attention back on the plants. “How do they get watered?” she asks, noticing how well the plants are doing.

    Thorin points to the pipes on the ceiling. “Those distribute collected rain water among the different plots, I suppose when Smaug attacked the pipes were just left open.” Thorin leaves her side to inspect some levers on the wall. “Ah, here,” Bilbo goes and stands beside Thorin, looking at the differently labeled levers. “The pipes for this collection tank were left open, and once the tank emptied, the rain didn’t collect up again, it just went straight through the pipes to here.” Bilbo hums and watches Thorin push the lever up and then pull another down. 

    The Hobbit lets out a shriek as the water rains down on them and then hits Thorin on the arm when he laughs. He pushes the lever back up and the water stops. “You are evil, Thorin Oakenshield.” Bilbo says, pushing her damp hair away from her face. The Dwarf King just smiles widely and pushes her hair behind her ear. “The crops seems to be doing well, though,” the Hobbit observes as they walk along the little paths through the plants, “Albeit a bit overgrown. They could use a bit of tending to.”

    Thorin nods. “Yes. Hopefully, we will be able to heal the farm grounds in Dale soon. The city was where we got most of our field crops, such as corn and wheat. We do not have the space in Erebor for them, so we had a trade agreement with the farmers of Dale.”

    “We’ll rebuild, Thorin,” Bilbo says, placing a hand on his shoulder, “In every way that we can. Erebor will be returned to her former glory, as will Dale. It will take a long time, but it will be done.” Thorin smiles and takes her face in his hand, his thumb gently stroking her cheek. “Now, if you’ll be a peach, help me find what can be salvaged so Bombur and I have something other than cram to make our breakfast with.” Thorin chuckles, a look of confusion that Bilbo doesn’t understands flashing across his face, and follows her around the greenhouse, holding whatever she places in his arms.

    “It’s not much,” Bilbo declares as she reenters the kitchen with Thorin in tow, “But it’s something.” Thorin places what’s in his arms on the center island in the kitchen and allows the two cooks to do their work.

    After breakfast, Bilbo takes Bombur, Ori, and Dori to see the greenhouse as Thorin takes the others to scout the mountain and search for the cursed rock that rests in Bilbo’s pocket.

 

    The hope in Bilbo’s heart decreases with each passing day, Thorin eats less and less and, according to the others, he hasn’t slept in days. He spends all his time in the treasury, either admiring the hoard or searching for the Arkenstone, which sits heavy in Bilbo’s coat. He also makes the company search in shifts for the Arkenstone, except Bilbo, he never asks the Hobbit to look for the cursed stone. It’s seven days after Smaug attacked Laketown that Fili and Kili arrive at the Mountain. She’s wandering the mountain when she hears them calling out. She runs towards their voices, and once she spots them she cries out, “Wait! Wait! Stop!” They stop and Bilbo makes her way to them, surprised to see that Tauriel was trailing behind them. “You need to leave, we  _ all _ need to leave.”

    “But we only just got here,” Fili says.

    “I’ve tried talking to him but he won’t listen.”

    “What do you mean?” Kili asks.

    “Thorin!” Bilbo quickly lowers her voice. “Thorin. He’s been down there for days; he doesn’t sleep, he barely eats. He’s not been himself, not at all. It’s this place. A sickness lies upon it.”

    “Sickness?” Tauriel asks, “What kind of sickness?” Fili suddenly goes around Bilbo and down the stairs, toward the treasury, despite Bilbo’s calling. The the three others follow the Dwarrowdam down to the treasury. Kili stops Tauriel in the safety of the darkness of the stairs with a few whispers and goes to join Fili and Bilbo in the blinding yellow light from the treasure hoard. Thorin stands among the hoard, as he has been for days. The Dwarf wears a heavy looking black coat that trails behind him, worn over other clothes he’d found searching through his grandfather’s wardrobe. He’s yet to put on the crown yet, even though it has been found, and that only fuels Bilbo hopes that he will break from this, but it also fuels her fears that if he puts that crown on his head, he will be lost forever.

    “Gold,” Thorin says, drawing the attention of his sister’s children, “Gold beyond measure, beyond sorrow and grief.” Thorin looks up at the three of them, seemingly surprised to see them there. Bilbo struggles to not squirm under the Dwarf’s gaze, but it is difficult. “Behold, the great treasure hoard of Thror.” Thorin chucks an object up to the three of them, and Fili catches it; it’s a ruby, the size of her fist. “Welcome, my sister-children,” Thorin says, holding his arms out, “To the Kingdom of Erebor.” Fili and Kili exchange concerned glances and then look at Bilbo for answers. The Hobbit looks down at Thorin, who has already turned away and is now muttering to himself. She motions them to follow her and she begins to lead them up to where the company has been staying.

    “He’s been like this for days,” she informs softly as the walk through the halls, “I thought, I  _ hoped _ , that maybe he wouldn’t fall.”

    “It’s not your fault,” Tauriel says, “The sickness is not under your control, there’s nothing you could have done to prevent it.” Bilbo smiles gratefully at the Elf.

    “I still have a small bit of hope for him,” the Hobbit says, “There are moments, sometimes, when he’s not like that, when he’s like how he used to be. But those are few and far between, and they don’t ever last long.” Bilbo pauses a few turns from where she recalls leaving the rest of the company. “We’re just about there, but I wanted to tell you something. The gold sickness is not just affecting Thorin. It seems that everyone has been effected.”

    “Everyone?” Fili asks in disbelief. 

    Bilbo nods. “The others are usually only affected when they are physically in the treasury, and just a short amount of time after they leave depending on how long they were in there. Other than that, they’re relatively unaffected.”

    “Relatively?” Kili repeats.

    Bilbo sighs and gently rubs the Dwarrow’s arm for support. “Just don’t act weird around them, I don’t think they know that it affects them. Just be the way you normally would, yeah?”

    The siblings nod and Bilbo leads them the rest of the way, entering through a doorway where Balin and Dwalin were at the table. “Balin!” Fili calls out as he and Kili step forward, while Tauriel stands next Bilbo just inside the doorway. The first laugh bubbles out of Fili as Dwalin pulls her into a bear hug, and not long after, they’re all laughing. The other members of the company begin streaming into the room after hearing all the commotion, and when they see Fili and Kili, they start laughing and hugging them as well. It’s, of course, Bofur who suggests a celebration that the two are alive and well, and goes to retrieve the wine. Bofur’s statement makes Bilbo think of her children, and a deep sense of fear strikes her in the chest. A gentle hand on her shoulder startles her and she look up at Tauriel.

    Tauriel offers her a warm smile. “Do not fear, your children are alive and well, they are currently under Prince Legolas’ care and are helping the survivors of Esgaroth.” The Hobbit breathes a sigh of relief and gives the Elf a grateful, and exhausted, grin.

    “I suppose we should follow them,” Bilbo says, gesturing to the Dwarves, who are filtering out of the room, “They’ll be heading to the dining hall.” Tauriel nods and the two of them follow the company. Bombur throws together a meal with what they have on hand, his brother and cousin bring out what’s left of the wine, and the others pull out their instruments and begin playing music. Those who aren’t eating or playing music, are dancing to the jaunty tune.

    Bilbo, amused by it all, looks up at Tauriel and it almost surprised to find her just as entertained. “I have not seen Dwarves dance in a very long time. It is… amusing to watch them.”

    “Do Elves not dance like this?” Bilbo queries.

    “No, they do. It just is more entertaining to watch Dwarves dance. I believe it is because they are so small, they look like children, and it’s amusing.”

    Bilbo hums and watches Fili and Kili dance together, the siblings laugh as they stomp and twirl with the beat of the song and the Hobbit can’t help but smile. “Did Kili ask you to come along?” she asks, looking to the Elf, who still follows the youngest Dwarrow with her eyes.

    Tauriel smiles. “He did” she answers, “He wanted me to be there with him when they first looked upon the Halls of their Fathers.”

    “I am surprised that you were allowed to come,” The Hobbit comments, “I would have thought that Prince Legolas would have made you stay behind.”

    Tauriel’s smile drops, and she frowns and nods. “I know he did not wish for me to accompany them, but he let me; though he only allowed me to escort them to the mountain, I will have to leave soon, but I will allow myself to indulge before then.” Bilbo nods and turns her attention back on her Dwarves.

    There is a sudden, loud bang and the room grows startlingly quiet; the music and dancing stop abruptly and everyone turns to see Thorin standing in the doorway; Bilbo realizes then that the Dwarf King had opened the door to the dining hall with so much force that it slammed into the wall. Thorin’s eyes scan the room, his gaze settling on Fili and Kili for a few moments for finally settling on Tauriel. The Dwarrow snarls and storms across the room to approach the bench that the Elf and Hobbit are sitting on. Both of them stand swiftly and Bilbo stands in front of the Elf as Fili and Kili both dart to where they are. “What is this filth doing in  _ my _ mountain?” The Dwarf King growls.

    “Tauriel saved Kili, Thorin,” Bilbo reminds gently, taking slow steps toward him, “Don’t you remember? She means no harm.” Thorin’s dark eyes dart between Bilbo and Tauriel and his chest heaves with every breath. “She helped get Fili and Kili out of Laketown when Smaug attacked, she did the same for Bella and Isengrim.” Thorin visibly relaxes when Bilbo rests her hand on his arm, and they lock eyes as she gently pulls his hand away from where it was resting against the hilt of his sword.

    Thorin tears his gaze from the Hobbit and looks back towards Tauriel. “I want you out, Elf,” he says, “Your kind are not welcome here.”

    Bilbo sees Kili deflate in of the corner of her eye, but she doesn’t look at him, she keeps her eyes trained on Thorin. “Uncle, please--” He begins, only to be interrupted.

    “Be quiet, Kili!” Thorin growls, then looks back at the Elf, “You will leave my mountain and you will not return, or I shall kill you myself.” Bilbo isn’t exactly sure what causes it, as everything just moved much too quickly, but for some reason, Thorin pulls his sword and shoves Bilbo backwards; she falls against the the edge of the stone bench she was previously sitting on and pain blooms from her back as she lands on the floor. Tauriel pulls her daggers to defend herself if the King attacks and steps in front of Kili. “You would threaten me?” Thorin accuses. The Dwarf King lets out a roar as he lunges forward towards the Elf. 

    Fili jumps in front of her Uncle, preventing him from reaching her, and Dwalin and Dori quickly restrain Thorin from behind. “Kili, get her out of here!” The golden-haired Dam shouts.

    Bilbo quickly takes their hands and pulls the two of them out of the dining hall and through the mountain towards the destroyed front gate. Once they reach the gate, Bilbo hangs back to give the couple a bit of privacy as they walk forward, but still watches and listens. “I’m sorry,” she hears Kili say, “I didn’t think it would be like this.”

    “You have nothing to apologize for,” Tauriel replies, “you cannot control the actions of others, no matter how hard you try.”

    Kili sighs and rubs at his eyes, then digs around in his pockets before pressing something into Tauriel’s hand. “Keep it,” he says, “as a promise.” Tauriel looks at the rune stone in her hand.  _ Return to me. _ Bilbo looks away when Kili pulls Tauriel down to kiss her, and only moments later is Tauriel running out of the Mountain. Kili watches her go, her red hair trailing behind her like a banner flying in the wind.

    Bilbo approaches Kili slowly and places a gentle hand on his arm. “I’m sorry, Kili.”

    Kili sighs. “Are you all right?” he asks, “I saw how hard you hit the bench.”

    The Hobbit shrugs. “I’ll be okay, though my back does hurt a bit.”

    “Thorin shouldn’t have pushed you, there was no reason for him to.”

    Bilbo sighs. “It doesn’t matter.”

    “It matters.” Kili says sternly.

    “It wasn’t on purpose.”

    “That doesn’t make it okay.”

    “I know!” Bilbo sighs and covers her face. “I know it doesn’t. But there’s nothing I can do about it. I’ve  _ tried _ , time and time again, and I manage to get him back for just a few moments, but he always goes back. Always.” Kili pulls the Hobbit into a hug and lets her cry into his chest. They stay like that for a moment before Bilbo pulls away and wipes at her face. "I think I'm going to bed," she says, "I'm exhausted."

    Kili nods. "You're sure you'll be all right?" he asks.

    The Hobbit nods slowly. "I'll be fine," she assures. The two of them walk back to the Dining Hall together and as Bilbo's gaze sweeps over the room, watching the other members of the company put away food and instruments, she noticed that the leader of their company is missing. Turning towards her left, she stops Dwalin with an outstretched hand. "Thorin, did you see where he went?" she asks.

    The bald Dwarrow shakes his head and he rubs a hand over it. "No," he answers, "But he didn't follow you, we know that for sure. He probably went back to the treasury to sulk." Dwalin pauses and glances over the other Dwarves. "I'm worried about him."

    "We all are," the Hobbit replies. After one last sweeping gaze over the room, Bilbo sighs and rubs at her brow with the back of her wrist. "Well, I'm going to bed, this has been... a long day." Dwalin snorts, but nods in agreement, and Bilbo leaves for her rooms with a 'goodnight'. Once in the bedroom, Bilbo slowly, and slightly painfully, removes her clothing from the waist up in order to investigate her bruise. There's a surprising amount of colour already where the pain blooms from, despite the incident only just happening, and she can't imagine what it'll look, or feel, like tomorrow. The thing throbs annoyingly, and everytime Bilbo moves, it sends a dull ache down her spine. Lost in her observations, the Hobbit does not hear the main door to the rooms open, and thus is startled when the door to the bedroom is opened suddenly; she snatches up her coat to cover her naked chest and watches warily as Thorin enters the room. They stare at each other for a moment before Thorin's eyes slide to the mirror and his gaze drops to the reflection of her steadily growing bruise, and his eyes grow dark. He takes slow steps forward, his eyes not leaving the reflection, and Bilbo has to force herself to not step backward; he gently pushes at her shoulder, turning her around so he can inspect at the injury and his broad hand slides over her back, fingertips brushing against the sensitive skin. "Thorin." Bilbo cringes at the hint of fear in her voice, she knows Thorin would never hurt her, not on purpose, but the Dwarrow is so unpredictable anymore, there's no telling how he'll react to anything. Thorin meets her eyes through the mirror and he must see something in them, probably fear, because his gaze drops to his hand that's pressed against her back and both of his hands suddenly leave her body, as if he'd been burned.

    "I did this," he murmurs. His voice is low, disgusted with himself, and he turns on his heel and storms out of the room, slamming both doors shut behind him and startling the Hobbit each time. She stands there for a moment, frozen, before hastily throwing her clothes back on and all but running back to the Dining Hall, to the rest of the company.

    Though, before she makes it to the Hall, she runs, almost literally, into Fili and Kili in the hallway. "Auntie?" Fili asks, steadying the Hobbit, "I thought you were going to bed."

    "I am," Bilbo responds, desperately trying not to wring her hands, "I was just wondering if you and your brother would mind sleeping in my room with me? I'd feel a lot more comfortable if you did."

    "Why?" Fili queries, a look of concern painting her features, "Are you all right? Did something happen?"

    Bilbo shakes her head. "No, I'm fine. Thorin just came into my room while I was inspecting my bruise, he wasn't happy to see it, nor was he when he realized it was at his hand. I think Tauriel being here really did a number on him. I know he'd never do anything to hurt me, not on purpose, but I'm just not comfortable with sleeping alone." The siblings agree and Bilbo leads them to the room and points out the open door to the bedroom.

    "What's this door lead to?" Kili asks, pointing to the door on the opposite side of the room.

    "That leads to your mother's nursery and your uncles' room," Bilbo answers, "would you like to see them?" The two Dwarves nod enthusiastically, making the Hobbit chuckle and she leads them through the door. They investigate the small room, fingertips brushing against the hard wood of the crib and the soft fabric of blankets and baby clothes, giggling to each other over the garments their mother wore as a babe.

    "This door goes to Uncle's room?" Fili asks, pointing to the door. At Bilbo's nod, she opens the door and the three of them go inside. They marvel at the little wooden soldiers, expressing their envy that they didn't have such toys when they were children.

    Bilbo laughs softly. "I imagine I'll be finding you laying on your bellies playing with them out on the rug?"

    "Absolutely not, Auntie, I have no clue where you would get such an idea," Kili says, "We're much too mature to be playing with soldiers."

    Fili nods in agreement. "Yeah, Auntie, it's called 'Battle Strategy'." The three of them are silent for a moment before they all burst into a fit of giggles. After the Dwarrow siblings finish searching their Uncle's former room, the three of them head to the master bedroom, where they get ready for bed, removing boots and bulky objects such as coats and belts and weapon holsters. "Hey, what's this?" Fili asks.

    Bilbo turns to see her holding up the little fabric doll that she'd found in Thorin's old room on that first night. "I'm not sure," she answers, "A doll of some sort, obviously. I found it in your uncle's room on one of the little beds."

    Kili approaches the two of them and takes the doll from his sister. "I have one of these, but mine has black yarn for hair. I think it was supposed to look like Uncle." He gently brushes his hand over the dolls yellow yarn hair. "I think this one was supposed to be Uncle Frerin." The Dwarf siblings look at the doll with sad eyes and Bilbo takes one of each of their hands and the give her twin sad smiles before Kili places the doll back where Fili found it, propped against a short stack of books that Bilbo has accumulated on the nightstand next to where she sleeps. After that, they crawl into the bed, Bilbo in the middle, Kili on her right, and Fili on her left. The Hobbit smiles fondly, recalling nights when Bella and Isengrim were small and she would often find them crawling into her bed during thunderstorms, seeking the comfort of their mother to soothe their fears. She presses kisses to both of their heads and they snuggle into her and within moments, all three of them are asleep.

    The following morning, all members of the Company, sans Thorin and Bilbo, are ordered to dig amongst the gold for the Arkenstone. The Dwarf King and his Hobbit stand on one of the balconies looking over the Company and the sea of treasure. Bilbo stands to Thorin’s left only at his insistence, while Thorin leans over the railing, his hands gripping the stone so tightly Bilbo can see that his knuckles have turned white. “Any sign of it?” The Dwarrow calls out, his voice echoing in the seemingly endless room.

    “Nothing yet,” Dwalin replies. Bilbo follows the bald Dwarf with her eyes and she can tell he’s growing frustrated with the way the gold falls back into place after he moves it.

    “Nothing here,” Ori says as well.

    “Keep searching!” Thorin demands.

    “That jewel could be anywhere!” Oin calls out, and as Bilbo directs her eyes towards the older Dwarf, she watches him stumble over a golden platter that sticks out of the mass of coins and gems, and she can only imagine the heat of the glare he’s directing towards the offending piece of metal.

    “The Arkenstone is in these halls,” Thorin says, “Find it!” Thorin pushes away from the railing and begins pacing and Bilbo takes a step back to give him the space to. “All of you! No one rests until it is found!” Bilbo slowly takes steps backward towards the doorway as Thorin is distracted with watching the Company and slips away silently when she knows he won’t notice. Once she’s sure she’s alone, Bilbo sits down and pulls the Arkenstone from her pocket and stares at it, again, finding herself wondering how much damage the stone could do. Staring at the glimmering jewel, Bilbo recalls Smaug’s words in the treasury. ‘ _ I am almost tempted to let you take it, if only to see Oakenshield  _ suffer _. Watch it destroy him, watch it corrupt his heart, and drive him  _ mad _. _ ’ The Hobbit rolls the stone around in her hands, she told herself when she grabbed the stone, she couldn’t let that happen, but if she’s being honest, she’s failed. Thorin  _ is _ corrupted, and slowly, he  _ is _ driving himself mad looking for the accursed jewel. She sighs softly and wraps the jewel in the cloth before shoving it back into her coat and making her way back into the mountain.

    Hours later, Thorin grows frustrated with the continued absence of the Arkenstone and calls Bilbo, Balin, and Dwalin to the Throne Room to vent his aggravation. He leads the way towards the Throne and marches up the steps, but doesn’t sit; and Bilbo hesitates when Balin and Dwalin stop before the steps, but the Dwarf King jerks his head, motioning for her to follow, so she does, standing a few feet to the left of the Throne. “It is here in these halls,” Thorin growls, “I know it.”

    Dwalin sighs. “We have searched and searched,” he says.

    “Not well enough,” Thorin replies.

    “Thorin, we all would see the stone returned,” Dwalin assures.

    Thorin snarls. “And yet, it is still not found!” He shouts, his voice echoes against the vast halls of the throne room.

    “Do you doubt the loyalty of anyone here?” Balin queries. Thorin turns from staring at the empty slot where the Arkenstone should sit above the Throne to look at the white-haired Dwarf. “The Arkenstone is the Birthright of our people,” The old Dwarrow says.

    “It is the King’s Jewel,” Thorin responds, “Am I not the King?!” Bilbo looks away from the Dwarf King, as do Balin and Dwalin, and none of them say anything. Thorin nods and turns back to look at the empty slot, before throwing over his shoulder, “Know this,” he begins, “If anyone should find it, and withhold it from me, I will be avenged.” Thorin makes a swift exit and the remaining members of the company glance at each other before leaving the way they came.

    Dwalin separates from their little group and Bilbo turns to Balin. “Might I speak to you for a moment?” Balin nods and he leads her down the hall to the library and they stand among the bookshelves, and the old Dwarf lets out a watery sigh. The Hobbit nods in understanding and quickly glances back the way they came before dropping her voice to just above a whisper. “Balin, if… if Thorin had the Arkenstone” The Hobbit gives Balin a look, and his eyes widen slightly. “Or if it-- if it was found, would it help?”

    Balin stays quiet for only a moment before speaking. “That stone crowns all. It is the summit of this great wealth, bestowing power upon he who bears it. Would it stay his madness?” Balin shakes his head. “No, lass. I fear it would make him worse. Perhaps it is best it remains lost.” Balin leaves the library after giving Bilbo a pointed look and the Hobbit stays among the shelves for a moment before leaving as well.

    She sits in one of the many hallways, letting her mind wander, and she pulls the acorn she picked up in Beorn’s garden from her pocket, letting the over large seed roll around in her palm. She’s not exactly sure why she even picked it up, she just saw it and decided to slip it into her pocket as some sort of good luck charm, something to give her hope. “What is that?” Thorin’s sudden voice startles the Hobbit and her fist encloses instinctively over the acorn as the Dwarrow approaches. “In your hand.”

    Bilbo stands from the bench and tucks her hand behind her back. “It’s nothing,” she says.

    “Show me,” The Dwarf King demands.

    Bilbo sighs, and a smile tugs at her lips as she holds her hand out and opens her fist, and Thorin stares at the acorn for a moment. “I picked it up in Beorn’s garden,” she informs.

    Thorin looks back up at her and his face softens. “You carried it all this way?” he asks.

    Bilbo nods. “I’m going to plant it in my garden, in Bag End.” 

    Thorin’s lips tug into a fond smile and he chuckles softly. “It’s a poor prize to take back to the Shire,” he responds.

    The Hobbit shrugs. “One day, it’ll grow,” she says, “And every time I look at it, I’ll remember. Remember everything that happened; the good, the bad, and how lucky I am that I made it home.” She smiles at the Dwarf and his grin widens as he looks at her, a rare crack in the hard shell that is the Mad King, so she revels in the moment.

    But of course, the rare crack is mended when Dwalin calls out to Thorin and the smile falls from the King’s face. “The survivors from Lake Town, they’re streaming into Dale,” The bald Dwarf informs, “There’s hundreds of them.”

    Bilbo watches as Thorin’s face hardens and his eyes darken, his brow growing heavy and he turns away from both of them. “Call everyone to the gate,” he orders, “To the gate! Now!” Bilbo watches with sad eyes as Thorin storms away, the black cloak billowing out behind him, ad she glances back at Dwalin for a moment before the two of them follow suit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this, and I hope it's not boring, that's one of my worst fears, that it's boring. It took me a long while to get this finished, obviously. Also, if you're interested, I'm going to go over what's happened this past year. I no longer enjoyed writing this fic, for a couple of reasons that I won't go into, so I stopped writing it after I posted the last chapter for DOS, planning on picking it back up some time in the future. I did, eventually, but it wasn't very often that I wrote for it, and I didn't write that much. During the summer of last year, I got really into the Sims 4 again (side note: SEASONS) and then during that autumn, I really got into The Walking Dead and started writing a whole bunch of Rickyl fics (I've got a few I'm really liking, so if any of you are interested in reading those, let me know). Towards the beginning of this year, I started thinking about this fic again and how much I missed it and how I missed how much I used to like it, and so I started writing again. I'm about 1200 words into the next chapter which is going to go back to the twins for a bit, I'm not sure if I'll be able to make it through the whole chapter with them, but I'll try. I can't really think of anything else to say, so I'm just gonna leave it here.


End file.
